


Who Wants To Live Forever?

by Rita (LFN_Archivist)



Series: Princes of the Universe [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series, La Femme Nikita
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFN_Archivist/pseuds/Rita
Summary: This story was originally posted to the LFN Storyboard Archives by Rita.





	Who Wants To Live Forever?

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a sequel to PRINCES OF THE UNIVERSE and is set immediately after Four Light Years Farther. Again, it's a crossover between LFN and the Highlander universe.

As he drove down to the river Seine, Michael tried not to think. It had been a scant few hours since his forced disappearance from Section One. As he had walked out of the forest, the field router masking his location and disabling his implant, Michael had had no idea even where to go. The last fifteen years of his life had been a lie, from start to finish. Nothing he had been able to hang onto was real. 

Even the break from Section wasn't clean. Nikita, and god only knew who else, was aware that he was still alive. Michael had refused Walter's help for the same reason he'd asked for an abeyance mission. Then Nikita threw a monkey wrench into his plans – she'd taken Walter's bag of tricks to save his life because she 'wasn't ready' to see him die. His life was just *full* of irony. 

At this point, Michael couldn't afford to dwell on the events of the past few weeks, as he wasn't ready for them. Denial had been a way of life for him the last ten years, ever since transferring to Section One. It was easy to continue the pattern, especially now that he had an excuse. 

By the time Michael had decided on a course of action, night had fallen. He'd sworn he wouldn't go to MacLeod for help, the immortal had already done more for him than Michael thought he deserved. But as the hours had gone by and his thoughts and emotions were no less jumbled than when he left Nikita in the forest, Michael decided to turn to the only person he knew that hadn't lied to him. 

Reaching the immortal had been more difficult than he'd imagined. The number he'd given Michael now apparently belonged to a bar but when Michael asked for the Highlander the man on the other end asked *him* who he was. When Michael hesitated, the man put him on hold and the next thing Michael knew, Joe Dawson picked up the phone and told him that Mac was, in all places, on a barge on the Seine River. 

New phone number in hand, Michael called MacLeod and told him he was out of Section. Surprisingly, Mac, who hadn't wanted him to go back to Section in the first place, didn't sound very thrilled. Not wanting to discuss anything over the phone, Michael simply asked Mac what was wrong. 

"Richie's dead." MacLeod replied. 

"I'll be right over." Michael didn't hesitate. It looked like they would be trading 'war stories.' 

Michael proceeded to pick up one of the many false documents he had hidden in various parts of the world, bought a used car (cash, of course) and drove to Mac's location. Refusing to think about the last few times he'd been on a barge of any kind, Michael turned on the radio to escape his thoughts. Rather than distract him the radio mocked him. 

_There's no time for us_  
_There's no place for us_  
_What is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away from us_  


_Who wants to live forever_  
_Who wants to live forever....?_  


_There's no chance for us_  
_It's all decided for us_  
_This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us_  


_Who wants to live forever_  
_Who wants to live forever?_  


_Who dares to love forever?_  
_When love must die_  


_But touch my tears with your lips_  
_Touch my world with your fingertips_  
_And we can have forever_  
_And we can love forever_  
_Forever is our today_  
_Who wants to live forever_  
_Who wants to live forever?_  
_Forever is our today_  


_Who waits forever anyway?  
_

******** 

It was late night/early morning when Michael arrived at Duncan's 'home,' the moon casting a pale glow, just enough for the two immortals to recognize each other and lower their guard. Duncan had been waiting for his guest on deck but when Michael finally arrived they immediately went below, privacy being key for both men. 

Michael took off his leather trench coat, given to him by Richie after the older immortal had lost a bet and been bested by the 'newbie' and kept in a locker along with the katana Duncan had given him upon graduation. Michael had removed all of that locker's contents, intel he'd gathered over the years to ensure his longevity in Section among the other items removed, before setting off for the barge. 

Duncan proceeded to hang up the coat, knowing Michael would be here a while. They sat down across from each other and remained silent, both men needing to gather their thoughts. 

"What's on your cheek?" Duncan finally asked after a few minutes of silence. 

"Long story." Michael replied, peeling the 'scar' off his left cheek. 

"Let me guess, it has something to do with the fact that you said 'I'm out' as opposed to 'we're out?'" Duncan asked, not knowing the story as he hadn't had any real contact with either of his 'sources' since he'd cloistered himself after Richie's death. 

"Yes." Michael replied, pain flickering in his gaze. "What's with the hair?" 

"Long story." 

"What happened to Richie?" Michael asked not ready to deal with his own problems. 

"You first." Duncan dodged. 

"Not yet." 

"I'm older." Duncan countered. 

"I'm more stubborn." Michael returned. 

"Could be." Duncan conceded and sighed. " I took his head." 

"Why?" Michael asked, visibly shocked. 

"I was being pursued." Duncan replied. 

"By an immortal?" Michael asked, surprised that Mac would run from a fight. 

"A demon." Duncan corrected. 

"Demon?" Michael echoed skeptically. 

"Like I said, long story." Duncan sighed. 

"I have time." Michael paused. "How long?" 

"Shortly after you left." Duncan replied, understanding the question, somewhat familiar with Michael's thought processes. "You've only just begun your journey. There's much you don't know about. Demons are just as real as immortals, believe it." 

"Okay." Michael prepared himself to suspend his beliefs again, much like he did when they first met all those months ago. 

"They're not much different than any other evil. They find your weaknesses and prey on them." 

"Sounds familiar." Michael commented, sadness rather than humor coloring his voice. 

"Well this one used my recent past against me quite effectively. It knew which wounds weren't healed yet then showed up in so many forms that I didn't know which way was up. My friends thought I was going crazy and for a time so did I." 

"But it was real." Michael asked for confirmation. 

"Yes." Duncan sighed. "I thought I was confronting it, but it was Richie's head I took." 

"I see." Michael absorbed the details with little fuss, as usual. "And then?" He asked knowing there had to be more to this story. 

"I disappeared for a while." Duncan replied. 

"Without fighting back?" 

"Yeah." Duncan sighed again, the pain and guilt he'd just so recently buried resurfacing. "But I finally came back and finished it, with some help." 

"The demon?" 

"Defeated." 

"But the dead are still dead?" 

"Yes." Duncan confirmed. 

"How did you deal with it?" Michael asked, as much for himself as for Duncan. 

"Friends." Duncan replied succinctly, a subtle way of 'inviting' Michael to tell *his* story. 

"I don't know if I have any." Michael replied, trying for a joke but succeeding only in sounding like a drowning man, then added upon seeing Mac's reactions. "Present company excluded, of course." 

"Not even Nikita?" Duncan asked surprised, not knowing the details of what had brought Michael to his doorstep ahead of schedule and not having had sufficient time to find out after their very brief conversation and the younger Immortal's subsequent arrival. 

"After I returned to Section I realized something." Michael purposely evaded. "I *wanted* to be there. I still believed in the ends, it was the means that I didn't agree with any longer." 

"And the best way to change that was from within." Duncan surmised. 

"Yes." Michael confirmed. 

"But…" Duncan prodded gently, knowing how hard this was for Michael, a man who never opened up to any one about any thing. 

"But Nikita's situation was getting more dangerous. Our superiors still preferred to see her not return from a mission." Michael winced in remembrance. "I thought at the time that Nikita had come to the same conclusion as I did and taken it upon herself to escape." 

"Escape?" Duncan questioned, noticing Michael's wording, but letting it go for now knowing he would elaborate at his own pace. 

"Yes." Michael paused, pain at the events he was about to recall etching his features. "She drugged me and turned me over to a terrorist organization to further the escape." Michael stopped again, remembering how he tried to get out of the apartment, not knowing at the time if it was a lethal dose of poison or simply a 'knock out' drug that Nikita had used. 

"Nikita? The same woman you'd been protecting for six years?" Duncan asked incredulously. 

"She told me later that she knew I would be able to get myself out of there." 

"How did she know that?" Duncan inquired, thinking perhaps Michael had told Nikita of his immortality. 

"Ten years in Section One includes training in resisting torture and escape." Michael elaborated. "Fortunately, the electroshock was done while I was still wearing my clothes so they didn't notice the lack of injury and the wound on my face had healed, but the drying blood concealed it." 

"Damn." Duncan cursed, sorry that he hadn't kept better tabs on his pupil. Someone would have a lot to answer for later, but for now all he could was listen. 

"She came back in ostensibly to get me to come with her." Michael continued. 

"You agreed?" Duncan pushed, knowing Michael needed it, otherwise he'd clam up again. 

"Yes. I already had a plan." Michael confirmed. "There was another immortal in Section." 

"Only one?" Duncan asked, the sheer number of personnel dictating higher numbers. 

"Others probably got themselves killed one way or another to escape." Michael guessed. 

"Good point." Duncan conceded. "So who was the other one?" 

"A level three operative." 

"Level three?" Duncan interrupted, not wanting to appear as though he knew more about Section than he should. 

"Middle management." Michael supplied then filled Duncan in on his deal with the other Section immortal. 

******** 

After dropping off an injured Nikita upon their return from The Red Cell compound Nikita had been held in, Michael passed an immortal in the hallway. Michael recognized the 'buzz' and the other immortal recognized that Michael was no longer a pre-immortal, but rather a full fledged one. 

"My office, ten minutes." Michael ordered the level three operative quietly and walked away without bothering to wait for a reply. 

Predictably, ten minutes later there was a knock on Michael's office door. 

"Come in." Michael called out while opening his drawer and keying in the code to scramble all the eyes and ears in his office. 

"Please sit down." Michael invited, keeping his tone neutral until he ascertained if his guest was friend or foe. 

"Thank you." Came the similarly neutral reply. He'd never known Michael to fight or kill needlessly, but immortality sometimes changed people, and not for the better. 

"I don't want your head." Michael stated, sensing the other man's concerns. Michael though, wasn't worried about losing his head to the other immortal. 

"Good." Davenport sighed in relief. "I don't want yours either." He added hastily. 

"I know." 

"How?" Davenport asked curious as to Michael's reasoning. 

"You've been an immortal longer and could have done something earlier." 

"Maybe I waited so I could get your quickening." Davenport argued to see what Michael would say. He had twenty years as an immortal on Michael but got the impression that if it came down to it, age wouldn't make a damn bit of difference against Michael. Davenport figured correctly that Michael would not re-emerge until he was fully prepared for his new life. Not that Davenport was after anybody's head in the first place, unless of course, he was challenged. 

"Why are you still in Section?" Michael didn't bother to reply and instead asked a question of his own, wanting to know why Davenport hadn't gotten himself canceled or killed on a mission rather than continue to as Operations' *true* errand boy. 

"I've been asking myself the same damn thing over the last six months or so." Davenport replied honestly. "At first I thought I could do some good. However, I've come to realize that won't happen, not with the current regime anyway and I don't see either one of them 'retiring' any time soon." 

"You were immortal when you came to Section?" Michael asked. 

"Yeah, it's what got me here in the first place." 

"How?" Michael asked curiously, having studied Davenport's file which included an autopsy report on his victim before their meeting. "You were brought in for murder, of a mortal." 

"Not an ordinary one, that's for sure." Davenport countered. "It was self defense. The guy came at me with a gun and a battle ax." 

"A mortal?" Michael asked skeptically. 

"Oh, yeah. No doubt." Davenport relayed. "And just in case I wasn't clear on his intentions he started ranting about how evil all immortals are and how it's up to watchers like him to stop that evil." 

"Watchers?" 

"That's what the man said. He was cocky, told me backup was on the way and that I wouldn't be 'waking up' again. He thought he had the upper hand, even showed me some tattoo he had on his left wrist." 

"What kind of tattoo?" 

Davenport described what he had seen, a bird inside of a circle. "Had no idea then and still don't have a clue about any watchers. Tried digging around, but nobody knows anything. Maybe he was deranged, who knows?" Davenport mused. "Anyway, he wasn't a very good shot so I didn't die and seeing that my sword was the only weapon I had, I used it." 

Michael filed away Davenport's story for future reference. Perhaps he'd ask MacLeod if and when he saw him again. As old as he was, maybe Mac knew something about 'watchers.' 

"Got me a one way ticket to Section." Davenport sighed then asked. "You want out?" 

"Do you?" 

"I'm getting there, man. Closer and closer every damn day." Davenport answered. "Listen, if you go, I go. Seriously, you're the only level five or higher I still have any respect for." 

"We'll see." Michael said thoughtfully. 

******** 

"So, you helped each other out?" 

"Yes." Michael confirmed. "As I said, Nikita came back into Section in disguise, supposedly to get me out." 

"Ostensibly? Supposedly? This doesn't sound good." Duncan realized, silently berating himself again for not keeping up to date, but then again he hadn't stayed up to date on much of anything since… 

"No." Michael sighed and continued painfully. "I ran Davenport over to facilitate our escape and as far as Section is concerned, he's dead. At least he got out intact." 

"Go on." Duncan prodded again patiently. 

"After a week we were captured by Section." 

"I could have helped you disappear." Duncan admonished gently. 

"No, Nikita gave away our location." 

"What? Why?" Duncan asked more puzzled by the minute. 

"It was a mission." 

"For Section?" 

"For Center, Section's governing body. She was a 'mole' for them for three years." 

"Damn." Duncan cursed again. "So, how'd you get out?" 

"Nikita ordered my cancellation. I asked for and was granted an abeyance mission." 

"She what?!?" Duncan asked bewildered. "After everything you'd done, everything you'd risked?" 

"I put her well being above Section, it was tantamount to treason." 

"Her well being? She sent you on a suicide mission for keeping her alive?" 

"Walter, Section's munitions chief offered me a way out." Michael continued his story in answer. "I'd rather have let everyone in Section believe I was dead…" 

"So you said thanks, but no thanks." Duncan deduced. 

"Yes. But Nikita had other ideas. She 'rescued' me." 

"Why do I get the feeling this is *not* a good thing?" 

"Nikita told me she wasn't ready to see me die, but she didn't love me either. Never did, in fact." 

"You think it's true?" Duncan asked, several possibilities for Nikita's actions coming to mind. 

"I don't know." Michael replied honestly. "I don't know Nikita anymore, never did it seems." 

"Well, why do you think she…did what she did?" 

"Anger perhaps. I *have* given her a lot to be angry about over the years. I thought we got past it, but perhaps I was mistaken." Michael replied, despair coloring his voice. "Anger, contempt, revenge or perhaps just plain indifference to me." 

"But she let you go." Duncan pointed out. "You think it was out of guilt?" 

"Living with the memories of…" Michael's voice finally cracked. "What happened is more painful than dying, perhaps Nikita understood that and decided it was fair punishment for me." 

"You don't really believe that." 

"Why not?" Michael asked. "Nikita didn't have to bring us back in to complete the evaluation. *She* chose to return and end it the way it did." 

"So, you've given up." Duncan surmised. 

"Yes." Michael confirmed, rehashing events with Mac reinforcing his despondency. "What's the point? I have nothing left." 

"If that's the way you feel." Duncan began, walking into his bedroom and over to the old trunk laying at the foot of his bed, reverently taking out the sword he'd so recently sworn not to pick up again. "Let's get it over with." 

******** 

While it may have been Duncan's intention to spar with his former student as a way to help him focus on the future and not the past, it had turned out to be the Highlander who needed to focus more. While Michael had still harbored a wish for oblivion, he couldn't say no to his former teacher when Mac had 'offered' a sparring session. On the short trip over to the abandoned warehouse they were now standing in, Michael had put aside his own melancholy enough for Mac's story to sink in. Michael had realized that while his circumstances at least had a tiny glimmer of hope for the future, Mac's didn't. You couldn't raise the dead, not even the immortal dead. Michael promised himself on the short drive that he would find a way to help Mac overcome his past before succumbing to his own. It was the least he could do for his one remaining friend. 

Michael stared at his former teacher standing a few feet away. MacLeod held his ivory- hilted katana in his favorite waiting position – held in both hands but down and pointed to the side. By all outward appearances he was ready for their sparring session but to Michael's perceptions something was missing. As he analyzed that feeling, he realized that Mac's eyes were blank and nearly lifeless. In all of their previous fights, MacLeod's dark eyes would sparkle and dance with the intensity of his love of the movement. 

Sword fighting, like other hand-to-hand combat was much more personal and intimate than the usual Section method of shooting a target. The first lesson to be learned was that you had to look directly into your opponent's eyes. Looking anywhere else was a dead giveaway of where your blade would go next. No, everything you needed to know would be found by examining the other person's face. There would be subtle shifts in their expressions, tightening of muscles, and various layers of intelligence to decipher in their gaze. The other movements of their body and their blade you saw peripherally in a strange sense of awareness. You saw their sword, but you didn't look at it. 

Looking into his sparring partner's face now, Michael could see the half-healed scars on the man's psyche. There was a veil separating MacLeod from his actions. He stood there, prepared to go through the motions but his spirit was in retreat, refusing to deal with the implications of holding the katana again. Michael sighed inwardly, thinking that this apathy would have to go. 

He raised his own katana and advanced. Mac's blade met his and they engaged in a few half-hearted strokes, bantering it was called. Michael's concern increased. He recalled a past conversation he'd had with Richie. Both of MacLeod's students had agreed that their mentor probably had an incredibly good chance of being the last Immortal – the one to get the Prize. It wasn't even that Duncan was so skilled with a sword – he was and no one doubted it – it was the fire in his soul, the life that burned so brightly in him even after everything he'd experienced in four hundred plus years. The Highlander and his katana moved as one entity and at the core of the man one could sense the deeply held knowledge that he would win. Richie had explained that Mac had gone up against enemies older and better than him, but that stubborn hopefulness and quiet confidence in not just his abilities but the right of his cause had seen him through every crisis. 

It was gone now, Michael sensed, and he worried. Could the Scot survive in the Immortal world without that living fire in his eyes and his soul? He allowed himself to make a few mistakes in his attack…leaving an opening here or there, but Duncan didn't press the advantage. Damn the man, anyway, the younger Immortal thought. His teacher would casually and easily block the blows coming toward him, but refused to counterattack. 

'Let's take this up a notch,' Michael thought grimly. 

Duncan was holding his sword directly in front of him. The younger man crossed his blade a few inches from the tip of the katana. Duncan automatically began pushing Michael's sword away and Michael allowed him but then suddenly swung into the Scot's right arm – hard. 

MacLeod stumbled back, hissing from the pain of the cut in his bicep. He touched the injury and looked at the blood on his fingers. "Zantei setsutetsu – cutting through nails, severing steel," he murmured. "Very good." 

Michael allowed a few seconds for healing since this was not a real fight, and watched as MacLeod returned to his favorite waiting position. He mirrored this position and lowered his own sword then touched Mac's katana a few inches from the tip. When Mac attempted to push it away, he thrust forward. The tip of his katana touched the Highlander's chest and a small drop of blood welled up. He backed off, not wanting to follow through with the maneuver, which was referred to as "pushing into a lion's den." 

He saw the first flickers of annoyance pass across Duncan's face and raised an eyebrow insolently. The frustration turned to anger, which was quickly put aside. Duncan began attacking and Michael began defending himself backing up quickly. As Mac swung at his left arm, he saw an opening and slipped to his left under the katana and struck Mac's right arm once again. 

Taking a step back, leading with his left leg, Michael assessed the condition of his teacher. Was it his imagination or was a light shining in the other man's eyes? A few more minutes passed, the two immortals evenly matched until Duncan began reemerging in earnest from his self imposed exile. 

Not long after, Duncan turned sideways and held his blade above his head with his left hand gripping the front part of the hilt. Michael stepped forward, swinging only to realize that Mac had swirled the katana down and sliced his wrists. He felt the sting of the cuts as blood ran down his arms and forced himself to keep a grip on his sword. 

He attacked Duncan again, who had moved once again to that downward positioning of his sword that he favored. As Michael neared, Duncan stepped outward with his right foot, and as his attacker passed, slashed him in the back. Michael fell to his knees. 

Duncan stepped around and hit the end of Michael's sword with the blade next to his tsuba, which was much stronger and closer to the katana's center of balance. The sword fell from his student's grasp. 

The tip of Duncan's katana at his throat, Michael looked up into those dark brown eyes to see the beginnings of the look he'd aimed for. It wasn't a full-fledged fire yet, but there was more than a candle's glow in the other man's eyes. 

"Welcome back." he said. 

******** 

"Who was supposed to bring who back from the brink?" Duncan asked a few moments later after both men healed and cooled down. 

"Quite a pair, aren't we?" Michael commented dryly in reply. 

"Yeah, a sorry pair if you ask me." Duncan agreed. "So what are we gonna do about it?" 

"We?" Michael sobered. "You're going to do what you do best." 

"Oh no, you don't." Duncan reproached. "If I'm going to return to the world of the living then so are you." 

"Mac…" Michael began. 

"Twelve hours." Duncan interrupted. 

"For what?" Michael asked curiously, unable to believe anything Mac could do in a day would change anything. 

"Trust me." Was all Mac would say. 

"Alright." Michael reluctantly agreed after a few minutes of stubborn silence in which Mac offered no explanation or elaboration, in this instance at least, just as stubborn as his former pupil. 

"Good. Let's go." 

"Where to?" 

"Back to the barge." Duncan replied. "You're going to make yourself comfortable for the day." 

"And you?" 

"Going to talk to a couple of old friends." Duncan replied cryptically, knowing exactly who he was going to talk to and pretty sure about where he would find them, too. 

"Mac…" Michael tried again. 

"You gave your word." 

"Fine." Michael returned, annoyed at being kept in the dark, but bowing to his former teacher's wishes. 

******** 

"Wow. It's a miracle." Joe Dawson exclaimed from the stage of his blues bar where he was tuning up his guitar upon Mac's entrance. "Must be something big to bring you out of hibernation." 

"Where's Methos?" Duncan asked, his anger barely contained. 

"Hello to you, too." Joe answered in reply, coming over to the bar and pouring himself a drink even though he hadn't officially opened yet, knowing by the anger emanating from Mac's eyes, posture and voice he'd need it. "Nice to see you. Glad you stopped by for a visit." 

"Sorry." Mac muttered contritely. 

"Yeah. I know." Joe accepted the apology. "You look better, at least. Got some life in you." 

"Thanks." 

"About damn time, too. Although it doesn't look like it's good news that brought you here." 

"You're right about that." Duncan agreed. 

"Well, let's go, then." Joe returned. "Dave's coming in, he can open." 

"Where to?" Duncan asked suspiciously. 

"You said you wanted to find Methos. So I'm taking you to him." 

"You know where he is?" Duncan's suspicions rose even further at Joe's seeming foreknowledge of his search and his quarry's whereabouts. 

"Yeah. He said you'd be looking for him." 

"Really? When was this?" 

"Last night." 

"He knew, did he?" Duncan muttered, mostly to himself, his anger growing at the other immortal. "Fine, then. Where is he?" 

"No way, man." Joe answered. "I'm coming with you." 

"Why?" 

"He's 5000 years old. I'm gonna make sure he makes it another year and that you don't regret taking his head later." 

******** 

"What took you so long?" Methos asked impatiently as he opened the door to his opulent part-time apartment. 

"Expecting me, were you?" Duncan seethed, barely containing his anger at the 5000- year-old immortal. 

"Yes." Methos confirmed, unperturbed, leading the way into his informal living room and sitting down on the couch. Joe joined him on the other end. 

"So you know why I'm here." Duncan returned, pacing, too angry to sit down. 

"Yes." Methos repeated, less relaxed in the face of the unexpected force of the Highlander's ire and glad the watcher had accompanied MacLeod after all. 

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Duncan asked incredulously. 

"Maybe you should take this up on holy ground." Joe piped up only half jokingly, aware that both men had their swords and thankful he'd brought his gun in case the argument escalated into the physical. He quieted again after getting dirty looks from both immortals. 

"Would you sit down, already? You're wearing down the carpet." Methos commented once Joe had sat back, once again the observer. 

"This better be good." Duncan acquiesced after a few moments and sat down on the chair furthest away from his host finally ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm listening." He said more calmly, briefly flashing back to an earlier confrontation that had resulted from a conversation with Joe several months ago, while Michael was still Duncan's pupil. 

******** 

"I can't believe they'd do that to one of their own." Duncan had stated to his watcher/friend one late afternoon as they were enjoying a drink at the bar while Richie and Michael sparred in a converted abandoned gym a few blocks away. They'd been talking about the information Joe had been able to glean about Mac's student and the organization he 'worked' for. 

"Which part?" Joe asked, as he had gathered much disturbing information about Michael Samuelle, Section operative. 

"The kid." Duncan elaborated. 

"Does he know?" 

"Of course he knows, I told him about immortals not being able to have any." 

"And he hasn't said a word?" 

"Michael?" Duncan questioned. "You've met him." 

"Good point." Joe conceded then muttered. "But then again his past, hell even his present, is not a stellar one." 

"I think Michael has paid more than his share of dues." Duncan countered tightly, misunderstanding who Joe was referring to. 

"Not Michael." Joe paused, realizing his faux pas but, resigned to Mac finding out the truth now, rather than later, continued anyway. "Methos." 

"What does he have to do with this?" Duncan asked, puzzled. 

"He must have approved the scenario, or what do they call it? Profile?" Joe explained, the proverb 'in for a penny, in for a pound' reverberating in his mind. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"The Watchers isn't the only covert organization our ancient friend has involved himself in." 

******** 

"I can't believe you allowed it." Duncan had stated to Methos one night on the barge several months ago, not too long after Joe had revealed the older immortal's connection to Section One. Duncan knew his friend had a ruthless streak in him, you didn't survive 5000 plus years without one. But, he didn't think he'd lost his humanity. 

"Why? Because he's one of us? Or because he's now your student?" 

"Because he's a human being." Duncan countered. 

"You can be such a boy scout sometimes." 

"And you can be such a bastard sometimes." Duncan retorted. "So, what's your point?" 

"First of all, I do not approve all profiles. I don't even read the damn debriefs..." 

"Don't give me that." Duncan cut in. "This wasn't an ordinary mission." 

"You didn't let me finish." Methos reproved mildly. "You're right it was an extraordinary mission. The target was extremely elusive and this scenario was offered by Madeline, Section One's second in command. It didn't get to me to approve or disapprove because Section's head, Operations, rejected it himself." 

"So you're telling me the woman had an extramarital affair?" Duncan asked skeptically. 

"No." Methos replied then elaborated. "Turns out Madeline went ahead anyway. I was occupied with Watcher problems just then and by the time I had found out it was too late, Elena was already pregnant. I didn't know Michael was pre-immortal then either." 

"Watcher problems? Maybe you had your hand in too many cookie jars." 

"Well, the Agency is the only cookie jar I still have a hand in." 

"Thankfully." Duncan muttered. "I'm curious, would you have approved it, had the profile reached you?" 

"I don't know. Maybe." Methos replied honestly. "I believed much more in the ends justifying the means back then." 

******** 

"This better be good." Duncan acquiesced after a few moments and sat down on the chair furthest away from his host finally ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm listening." He said more calmly. 

"Where do you want to start?" Methos finally asked Duncan after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

"At this point, I don't even know." Duncan sighed. "Just tell me why you set Michael up. Did you really doubt his loyalty?" 

"To Section One, yes. To the Agency and the cause, no." 

"Then what the hell did you set him up for?" Duncan asked in frustration. 

"To do *you* a favor." 

"Me?" Duncan asked, shocked by the revelation. 

"After Michael returned to Section you kept whining about the injustice of your former student's situation, the unfairness of Section's leaders…yada, yada, yada. So, against my better judgment *and* despite the plans for him, I gave Michael a get out of jail free card." 

"You couldn't come up with a better way?" Joe interjected as Mac was still processing the implications of what Methos had just revealed. Even though Mac had been quiet on the way over, Joe knew what had happened courtesy of Michael's watcher, still in Section for the time being. 

"What? You think I planned it that way?" Methos asked then sighed. "I told my immediate subordinate that Michael had to be canceled. I didn't know he would take it as an opportunity to teach Section personnel that everyone was expendable and no one could be trusted." 

"Great. Your subordinate got on a power trip and ruined a few lives in the process." Joe commented. 

"Well, okay. Maybe things didn't go as planned, but he *is* out." Methos pointed out. 

"He didn't *want* out." Duncan finally spoke. 

"What?!?" Methos was almost yelling. 

"Like you said Michael was, is, still loyal to the Agency." Duncan explained. "He didn't want out, he wanted change." 

"Why in the bloody hell then did you tell me Michael wanted out?" Methos asked, perturbed. 

"I thought he did." 

"So after everything, you're telling me it was for nothing? I lost a good operative who I had major long term plans for and the damn organization is in an uproar." Methos muttered. "Wonderful. This is what I get for getting involved with a damn boy scout." 

"So, what now?" Joe asked practically, knowing something had to be done to solve this 'problem' otherwise the rift between friends would never mend. "How do we fix this?" 

"I don't know. Ask the boy scout, he seems to know everything." Methos muttered in anger. 

"Okay, he's a boy scout and you're a ruthless bastard. Great, we've established that already. Can you two get over it so we can move on? Arguing won't change the circumstances, now will it?" Joe asked, the voice of reason, more removed from the situation than the other two. 

"He's right." Duncan commented, admitting that he was at least as responsible as Methos for the current situation. 

"So what if he's right? Where can we go from here?" Methos nearly huffed, still upset at MacLeod for his 'meddling' and himself for listening to the Highlander in the first place. 

"Well, let's start at the beginning." Joe turned to Methos, thinking things through more clearly and objectively right now than the two immortals. "If you hadn't listened to Mac, where in the organization did you see Michael?" 

"I recently replaced my top person." Methos began in answer. 

"Adrian?" Joe asked. 

"Yes." Methos confirmed. 

"How do *you* know about that?" Duncan asked, surprised at Joe's knowledge. 

"What? I can't have any other friends?" Methos answered the question. "I told Joe all about my 'retiring manager' problems, too. He had the same idea for a solution you did." 

"Sorry." Duncan muttered sheepishly. 

"As I was starting to say." Methos tried again. "Adrian retired and her replacement wasn't working out. He's more suited to Oversight than to Center. This little debacle just confirmed it." 

"You think Mick will accept a demotion?" Joe asked skeptically. 

"Mick?" Methos asked aghast at the possibility. 

"Yeah." Duncan returned. "Adrian retired so you moved him up. Right?" 

"Actually, I didn't listen to either one of you." Methos paused. "I mean, really, Mick's just a front. He's good at what he does, running Center's day to day operations. But, overall control, no." 

"I didn't tell you to promote *him* in particular. I just told you to promote from within." Duncan interjected. 

"So did I." Joe added. 

"Well, I *did.* Sort of." Methos hedged. "I mean I didn't go totally out of the field. Besides, Adrian did stay around long enough to train him." 

"Train who?" Joe and Duncan asked simultaneously. 

"Well, you have to understand the background I was coming from." Methos hedged, knowing his two friends' probable reaction if he didn't explain himself first. 

"I can't wait to hear this one." Duncan commented. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Methos asked. 

"It's just that when you start explaining your actions is when we start worrying." Joe elaborated. 

"Well, maybe I have a *bit* more experience than the two of you and without 'explanations' you won't understand." 

"Oh yeah, all that experience really paid off." Duncan countered. 

"May I remind you that if it wasn't for your whining, this would never have happened? *And* this isn't the first time I've been sorry I listened to you either." Methos added. 

"Alright gentlemen." Joe had had enough and pointed to Methos. "You, explain." Then pointing to Duncan, "You, sit back down and listen. I knew we should have done this on holy ground." 

"Fine." Duncan sat. 

"Fine." Methos echoed and started his story up again. "Adrian was quite impressive in her days. She did wonders with the Sections. She trained her personnel well; however, things changed and she was no longer as formidable as she once was. She realized it herself as well and asked to be retired. At first I did want to promote from within. Had a candidate or two all lined up." Methos paused, looking pointedly at the Highlander. 

"We've established that already. Next." Joe interjected before the next argument could start. 

"Anyway, when that plan didn't pan out, I decided to go outside of the Agency. Someone who I thought would be 'untainted' by the Agency, but experienced and familiar enough with international law enforcement. I thought I found him, someone relatively high up in the pecking order of their organization who'd been undercover for several years while simultaneously remaining in command of their own substantial task force. An added bonus was his recent run-in with Section One. He'd vehemently disapproved of their operating style and had excellent suggestions on what and where to change. With Adrian still around to train him in the nuances of Agency politics, I thought it would work out very well." 

"What organization?" Joe asked. 

"Interpol." Methos supplied. 

"Interpol?" Duncan asked incredulously, remembering his on again-off again (immortal) girlfriend Amanda's run-ins with that organization. "That's a completely different mindset. They barely scratch the surface of covert operations…" 

"I know, I know." Methos sighed then continued. "Volker, that's the bloke's name, failed miserably. His saving grace was coming to me and saying as much yesterday. He'd told me what he'd done with my scenario and the fact that he'd regretted it almost immediately, but couldn't stop it once it was in motion. He realized that his actions were no better than that of those he was supposed to change, and that he also gave in too easily to the temptation of all that power and opportunity for a little 'payback.' Even asked if he could perhaps start fresh in Oversight instead." 

"So, Adrian's replacement was supposed to be Michael?" Joe asked after Methos finished his tale. 

"Actually, Adrian and Mick both liked Volker for Oversight in the first place with Michael taking over Center until Duncan's nagging threw a monkey wrench into everything. They were both rather surprised at my about face regarding your former student's fate." 

"So, nothing has really changed." Joe pointed out. 

"Of course it has." Duncan contradicted. 

"No." Methos shook his slowly. "He's right." Methos stated, his mind frantically working out a solution. "It's not like everyone who dies in Section or the Agency always stays dead. And anyway, no one ever sees Jones. But even if Michael wanted to change that, which would definitely be in character, it wouldn't matter." 

"What do you mean it wouldn't matter?" Duncan asked. 

"You don't know the goings on of Agency too well. I may not be around all the time, but I certainly keep track of everything. Even if Mick hadn't confirmed it via surveillance, there's no way I'd believe Nikita hadn't planned on a suicide mission and rescue as soon as she was ordered to cancel Michael." Methos elaborated with much more enthusiasm than he'd shown throughout the entire conversation. "Yes. This could definitely work." 

"So, Nikita's words were just to get Michael to leave." Duncan mused aloud. 

"Of course. I can't believe Michael didn't see it." Methos commented. 

"Well, the recent past made things more difficult." Duncan defended his former student. 

"Good point." Methos conceded then added thoughtfully. "Of course, immortality might be something *Nikita* can't get over." 

"You think he'd tell her?" Joe asked. 

"Yes." Duncan and Methos replied simultaneously and without hesitation right as Duncan's cell phone rang interrupting the discussion. 

"Hello?" Duncan answered his phone, identified Michael as his caller and then listened silently for a moment, his expression not a happy one. 

"What?" Duncan spoke into the phone. "It's ok." Another long pause. "Let him go." A short pause. "Yes, I'm sure. Head back to the barge. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes and I'll explain." Duncan hung up. 

"What happened?" Methos asked. 

"Michael's watcher got too close." Duncan sighed. 

"Damn." Joe cursed. "He didn't…" 

"No." Duncan confirmed. "Michael gave him quite a scare, but no injuries." 

"How the hell did he spot him?" Joe asked, surprised that the veteran watcher had been 'caught.' 

"I'm sure ingrained Section paranoia was a factor." Duncan looked meaningfully at Methos. "But, it seems that Michael is also somewhat familiar with your organization." 

"How?" 

"A former Section colleague of his had a run in with a renegade at some point." 

"Wonderful." Joe muttered, getting up. 

"You're coming?" 

"My mess, right?" 

"You coming, too?" Duncan asked Methos. 

"Nope." Methos replied. "With all his connections I wouldn't be surprised if Michael was able to identify me. I think learning about the watchers is enough to digest for one night." 

"Good point." Duncan conceded. 

"We'll finish this discussion tonight." 

"Sure, it's not like we need to sleep or anything." Joe commented on their way out. 

Waiting by the barge, Michael saw his former teacher's approach even before he felt an immortal presence and he somehow wasn't surprised that the older immortal hadn't come alone. 

"Mac. Joe." Michael greeted warily, aware of the possibility that he was somehow being setup, Davenport's story warring with his own history with the immortal and his friend. 

"Michael." Joe returned while Duncan merely nodded, thinking ahead to how he would explain things. 

The three men went inside and made themselves comfortable for what surely would be another long conversation. 

"You're a watcher." Michael focused on Joe, surprising both watcher and Highlander alike. 

"Yes." Joe confirmed. "How did you know?" 

"You're wearing a short sleeved shirt tonight." Michael elaborated. "Your tattoo is showing." 

"You've seen it before?" Joe asked referring to the tattoo while Duncan remained silent, content to let Joe explain about his supposedly secret organization. 

"I've been given a description." 

"By another immortal?" Joe wanted needed details confirmed. "In Section?" 

"Yes, but not anymore." Michael answered, protecting the other man's identity. 

"Must have been Davenport." Joe muttered, almost to himself, then seeing the flash of anger and distrust in the young immortal's gaze quickly decided to 'explain' a few things. 

"Watchers have been around for hundreds of years. All we're supposed to do is objectively observe immortals and record their lives. Contact, let alone interference, was strictly forbidden. It still is, technically." 

"Your former colleague's experience and my friendship with Joe are *very* rare exceptions." Duncan threw in. 

"Explain." A still wary Michael directed. 

"Joe was, and still is, my watcher." Duncan began. "I stumbled onto the organization by 'accident.' My stubbornness wouldn't allow me to let it go until I uncovered all I could about the watchers." 

"The same stubbornness and tenacity that helped him keep his head for over 400 hundred years." Joe added. 

"And made sure I didn't leave until I knew how to use a sword." Michael remembered. "So, when did you become friends? Doesn't a no interference policy preclude friendship?" 

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Joe commented. "Well, it started out as each of us asking for a favor or two from the other and kind of snowballed from there." 

"And your superiors approve?" Michael asked. 

"Joe's high up in the organization himself, and I've helped them out occasionally with internal and external problems, so they tolerate it." 

"Did Davenport's watcher constitute an internal problem?" Michael asked, putting the pieces together quickly. 

"Yeah." Joe sighed. "My brother-in-law was also a watcher, also high up in the organization." 

"I can take it from here." Duncan offered. 

"No, it's okay. Like I said, my mess." Joe returned. "To make a long story short, he became convinced that all immortals were evil and needed to die. He had enough followers in the organization to cause a lot of damage and kill some very good men, both mortal and immortal before we could stop him." 

"And now?" 

"There are no more renegades." Joe stated definitively. "The man that was following you was only observing." 

"Every immortal is assigned a watcher?" 

"Yes." Joe confirmed. "As soon as we know someone is immortal, they're assigned a watcher." 

"But we're not supposed to know." Michael surmised. 

"That's how it usually works." Joe said ruefully. "Your guy was actually one of my best." 

"What about in Section?" Michael asked, not recognizing his watcher as Section personnel. 

"That was easier, much more contained. There was no need to follow you then at all. I also had someone in Section already on Davenport, so he just did double duty." Joe answered. "How did you 'find' him so fast?" 

"I've been 'observed' for fifteen years, it's become habit to look for shadows." 

"I'm sorry, but even if I didn't assign you a watcher, inevitable interactions with other immortals would eventually, probably sooner than later, get you noticed anyway." 

"It's okay, I'll get used to it." Michael replied, shocking the other two with the swiftness of his acceptance. 

"You will?" Mac asked first. 

"Well, if you're okay with it, I guess I will be too, eventually." Michael explained. Fifteen years of being watched like a hawk made one used to living in a fishbowl. As he'd just said, if Mac, almost as much a stickler for privacy as he was, didn't seem to mind it, well neither would he. Eventually. Michael trusted Mac and if the older immortal trusted Joe, then so would he. Besides, the way he saw his futire at this point, it didn't look he'd need a watcher for very long. 

"Good." Joe commented and stood. "Now that that's settled, I'll be going. Maybe catch a few winks before heading over to the bar." 

"I'll see you there tonight." Mac returned, getting up to see Joe out. 

"That's ok, I know the way out." Joe countered. 

******** 

"So?" Michael asked after the watcher had departed. "What now?" 

"Twelve hours, that was the deal." Mac replied. "That gives me until tonight." 

"Why?" 

"Why, what?" Duncan asked, not understanding. "I know you're a man of few words, but…" 

"What's the difference?" Michael elaborated. "Now or tonight?" 

"Things might look better by then." Duncan replied cryptically, giving Michael a dose of his own medicine. 

"I don't think so." Michael sighed. 

"You might be surprised." Duncan returned then continued, suspicion coloring his voice. "Now, tell me the truth about the imminent placement of your new watcher." 

"What do you mean?" Michael asked, blank stare firmly in place, trying to duck the question even though he knew exactly what Duncan was asking. 

"You know exactly what I mean." Duncan persisted, not fooled for an instant, knowing his former student a lot better than Joe did. "Why so accepting of a lifetime shadow? That's *not* like you." 

"I may have agreed to being watched, but that doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy on them." Michael explained, hoping his acting skills were good enough to fool the older immortal. 

"Ah. Well, that's more like it." Duncan grinned, erroneously accepting his former student's explanation. He believed his protégé and easily imagined the frustration Michael's watchers would likely endure given his considerable natural and Section honed skills. He had no doubt the young immortal would go through a number of watchers in no time at all. "So, any plans for the day?" 

"No." Michael replied, then seeing the weariness warring with suspicion in Duncan's countenance, added. "While Joe figures out who watches me next, I'm going to enjoy some 'freedom.' 

"You haven't gotten much sleep either." Duncan commented, knowing what Michael was trying to do. 

"I'm fine." Michael returned, used to lack of sleep and a host of other creature comforts thanks to his Section training and experience. 

"Be careful." Duncan warned, somewhat wary of letting Michael out of sight now that there was nobody 'watching' him. "Remember your promise and don't lose your head." 

"Of course." Michael replied in answer to all three warnings. He pointedly picked up his coat with the sword hidden in its folds on the way out so Mac wouldn't worry about him keeping his promise. 

******** 

After Section was blown up following the Glass Curtain breech, they had moved to a remarkably similar but slightly more advanced facility in a Paris suburb. The new location had just enough civilian traffic to mask Section activities. 

Although considered dead as far as most of the Agency was concerned, Michael didn't take any chances. He kept far away from Section's new base and ended up in a part of Paris he never frequented, nor would ever be expected to visit. 

After walking for several hours Michael stepped into a store where anonymity was easy. Three stories of wall to wall books and music greeted him upon entrance. At ground level was the music department, one floor up were books and assorted software. The third floor contained a café and another section of wall to wall, almost floor to ceiling, rows of books. 

At various intervals were tables, armchairs, love seats and couches for readers to sit back and browse through books and music. Many took the opportunity to read rather than browse. Picking various books at random, Michael found an empty armchair in a quiet corner and, after making sure the positioning of the chair allowed him an unobstructed view of his surrounding area, sat down. 

A master of blending in when needed, Michael proceeded to do just that. Picking up and opening one of the books at his feet, he began to 'read.' While a part of his mind remained aware of his surroundings, including the task of turning pages at proper intervals, the rest of Michael's mind wandered to thoughts of his future, or lack thereof. 

Where did he go from here? The question kept reverberating in his mind, but the answer wouldn't come. 

The life he'd led for the last fifteen years had come to an abrupt and painful end. Michael was dead to all but a couple of the people he cared anything about. To the one who really mattered and knew different, he might as well be dead. 

His purpose was gone as well. Unbidden, a snatch of a two year old conversation came to mind. 

_Nikita: You have to find a reason to live._

_Michael: Where?_

_Nikita: Wherever you can._

Nikita had been his reason to live then. Eventually, fighting for innocents (like his 'son') and the greater good reasserted itself as well. Now he had neither. 

Would anything have been different if he had listened to his screaming instincts and not escaped Section with Nikita? Would he still have been there now? Or had his death sentence and subsequent 'mercy' been inevitable? Had he burned too many bridges in forging and continuing their relationship? Had Nikita known him so poorly that she thought he wanted out rather than in and making a difference? Or was it something else entirely that necessitated his being 'canceled?' 

Michael couldn't go back, not to his 'son' and certainly not to Section. Perhaps if he wasn't immortal, he'd be looking at things differently. But the fact that he *was* immortal couldn't be denied. It made things worse in a way, much worse. He'd have to deal with loss as long as he had his head, drift in and out so no-one discovered what he was. How did Mac do it for over four hundred years? He couldn't even imagine doing it for one. 

His morose musings were suddenly interrupted by the awareness of an immortal presence nearby. 

As soon as he felt the buzz of the unknown immortal, Michael reached for his sword. Knowing they were in a public place, he didn't remove it from his coat, just kept it within reach. The irony of instinctively protecting himself directly on the heels of mulling over his lack of desire to face his future did not escape Michael, but he shoved that thought ruthlessly aside and faced the unknown. Surprised at the identity of the immortal who cautiously came into view, Michael's blank stare nevertheless remained in place. 

"Well, I'll be damned." Davenport exclaimed in what was unmistakably genuine surprise. "What are you still doing here?" 

"Visiting a friend." Michael replied cryptically, relaxing his guard a little. "You?" Michael asked, interested as to why the other immortal wasn't far away from his former life. 

"Waiting for my papers. Since Chris Davenport is dead, I can't use any of my old Section contacts, so it's taking longer than it should." Davenport sighed. "You're out though, right?" Davenport asked, suddenly looking around for Section operatives. 

"Yes." Michael eased the other man's fears. "I'm out." 

"You, as in singular?" Davenport asked, wondering what had happened to Nikita. 

"Yes." Michael did not elaborate. 

"Oh." Davenport returned, confused but not asking anything further, experience dictating he wouldn't get an answer anyway. "Hey, wanna grab a beer?" Davenport asked, not knowing what else to say. 

"Why not?" Michael returned, surprising both of them. 

With that, Michael left the books by the chair, grabbed his coat and the two men walked out of the store and to the nondescript bar and grill across the street. 

******** 

"So, where are you going from here?" Davenport predictably broke the silence once their beers arrived at their table, nestled in the back, with a view of all the entrances and exits, of course. 

"Don't know yet." Michael replied truthfully. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Davenport commented. "For the first time in six years almost every waking hour isn't scripted by 'Big Brother.'" 

"No plans, either?" 

"Nope." Davenport took a swallow of his beer. "I have some money siphoned away, untraceable, of course. Getting me a one way ticket to the States and a brand new start." 

"The farther away the better?" 

"Exactly." Davenport paused. "You know, I ended up at that bookstore thanks to your training." 

"How?" Michael asked, his Section persona still dictating his wording. 

"Hide in plain sight, where you're least expected to show." Davenport answered, used to Michael's 'verboseness.' "Never had a reason to visit this part of town when I was 'alive,' so, now that I'm dead…" 

"Not even a disguise." Michael supplied, nursing his beer. 

"Well, I've grown attached to the facial hair, so…" Davenport grinned. "Maybe if you get a haircut, I'll think about shaving." 

"Ten days out of Section has done your sense of humor wonders." 

"Yours too, apparently." Davenport took another swig and got serious. "Listen, man. I'm glad we ran into each other." 

"Why?" 

"With everything happening so fast in Section, I didn't have a chance to say thank you." 

"For what?" Michael asked puzzled, as the older immortal had already expressed thanks for his escape. 

"Well, without sounding too corny, for being a good role model." Davenport answered, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't dislike Section in the beginning. You know, when we were still chasing the bad guys instead of each other." 

"Go on." Michael prodded, curious as to where this was going. 

"Like I told you before, I lost respect for the place after all the in-house crap started and nothing was done about it by higher ups." Davenport paused. "But I meant what I said a year and a half ago. I really did learn a lot from you, even after I started getting really disgusted at what was going on." 

"Thank you." Michael replied sincerely, deciding against informing the other immortal of the events that followed their 'escape.' He had also decided against violating Mac and Joe's trust by informing Davenport of the truth behind watchers, at least for now. 

"I don't know what's happened with you since we left or what your plans are, but if you ever need anything, look me up." Davenport offered sincerely, knowing Michael would understand that his offer of assistance was given in light of the fact that Davenport had no way to know how prepared or ill-prepared Michael was to immortality, considering he had just died his first death a few months ago. 

"I'm fine." Michael answered Davenport's unspoken question. "But I appreciate the offer." 

******** 

Fifteen minutes later the two immortals went their separate ways. They'd had a few minutes of polite conversation followed by one more failed attempt by Davenport to find out what happened to the third member of the 'escape party.' After that Davenport had informed Michael where he would be in case Michael decided to look him up and the conversation had come to a close. 

Noting the time, Michael decided to head back to Mac's barge and find out once and for all what his former teacher had up his sleeve. On his way back, snatches of his conversation with Davenport replayed in his mind and Michael found himself feeling slightly better about his future. 

Arriving at the barge, Michael felt the presence of not one, but two immortals. Coming cautiously inside, he wasn't prepared at the sight of the second immortal who greeted him. 

"Sir." Michael recovered from his shock quickly and greeted the elder immortal sitting on the couch next to Duncan, recognizing him as Jones' boss, even though he wasn't supposed to. "Mac?" He turned to his former teacher, afraid he'd been on the receiving end of yet another manipulation, this time by his last remaining 'friend.' 

"Well, I won't ask how it is that you recognize me." Methos answered instead. His identity in the Agency was supposed to be an even more closely guarded secret than his age. Somehow, though, he wasn't surprised that Michael recognized him. "But don't worry, this isn't what you think." 

"I don't think anything, sir." Michael returned, the good Section operative reappearing. 

"First off, I hate being called sir, it just reminds me of my age." 

"What should I call you?" Michael asked deferentially. 

"Whatever you know me by." Methos answered. 

"M?" Michael returned. 

"Pierce is fine." The oldest living immortal used a variation of the name he used when he was a watcher, inwardly grimacing at his lack of foresight at not choosing an alias for his Agency persona. But then again, he hadn't planned on staying on as long as he had or letting anyone he knew was immortal get close enough to feel his immortality. "Let's start with the most pressing matter. No one is going to take you back to Section." That much was true. 

"So, why are you here?" Michael asked, his recent more agreeable mood completely gone. "To remind me of my failings and that I should be grateful that I'm still alive?" 

"No." Mac finally stepped in. "Look Michael, I know this looks bad, but hear him out, you might be surprised." 

"Pleasantly?" Michael asked dubiously. 

"Yes." Mac answered with conviction. 

"Fine." Michael replied, resigned and sat down on the chair on the other side of the coffee table, his posture conveying his mental state. The fact that Michael looked ready for a dressing down or interrogation rather than a conversation did not escape either of the two older immortals. 

"This is rather awkward." Methos began with the obvious. "Besides the fact that I'm supposed to be invisible, I'm also unused to explaining my actions, let alone apologizing for them." 

"Apologizing?" Michael echoed, this time unable to hide his surprise. 

"Ah, we both owe you an apology, actually." Duncan interjected. 

"I don't understand." Michael returned candidly. 

"Duncan's finding you in that rubble *was* an accident." Methos was the one to explain as per agreement with Duncan. "And he did not know I was involved with the Agency at the time." 

"I see." Michael processed the information. 

"I was also under the mistaken impression that you wanted out of the organization." Duncan broke in. 

"I thought so, too." Michael admitted. "But then I realized what I really wanted was to help it move forward." Michael finished diplomatically. 

"Yes well, that's readily apparent now." Methos picked up again. "But as Duncan said, that was not the impression or reason given for your return to Section after your, uh, training." 

"Does it matter?" Michael finally asked, not understanding what difference it could possibly make now as his actions upon his return had been evaluated and found lacking. 

"Yes, it does." Duncan threw in. "Once you left, I pleaded your case with…Pierce." Duncan and Methos both winced inwardly at the pause and near slip, hoping Michael didn't catch it. 

"How?" Michael asked, indeed noticing the hesitation, but not commenting only filing it away for later. 

"He asked that you be 'released' from Section and I eventually agreed." Methos answered vaguely, not mentioning the numerous 'discussions' he and Duncan had had on the subject before Methos had finally relented. 

"Alone?" Michael asked, then seeing the confusion on the other two immortals' faces, elaborated. "I alone was to be released?" 

"Ah, yes. This is where it gets complicated." Methos was relieved to get to the heart of the matter. "Duncan had asked for a 'get out of jail free card' for two." 

"You said no." Michael surmised. 

"Not exactly." Methos countered. "I still needed Nikita in Section and Center a bit longer. My mistake was in not specifying a scenario. My orders were that you were to be canceled. I was going to release Nikita from her duties and the organization, shortly thereafter, as soon as her job was complete. A nice, clean exit strategy for two." 

"What happened?" Michael asked. 

"Jones' boss, my second, took it upon himself to use this opportunity to further an agenda and created the profile that was carried out." Methos explained. "Unfortunately, by the time I found out, the profile was in play and it was too late to stop it without causing irreparable damage to the chain of command throughout the organization." 

"Who was under orders to do what?" Michael needed to know. 

"What you really want to know is what Nikita's orders were, yes?" Methos didn't even need to guess. 

"Yes." Michael admitted, not caring what it revealed as Duncan, and 'Pierce' undoubtedly as well, already knew his feelings. 

"She was told to order your cancelation and see that it was carried out." Methos confirmed. "The truth of the matter is that even the man who ordered it didn't think Nikita would be able to carry out the order." 

"Then why order it?" 

"He didn't think you should have died, either." Methos answered. 

"I see." Michael said, not even concerned at the identity of his superiors' immediate subordinate right now, still trying to come to terms with all that had just been revealed to him. "So, what now?" 

"Actually." Methos smiled, "A job offer." 

"For me?" Michael asked, taken aback and showing it, albeit briefly. 

"Yes." Methos confirmed then looked pointedly at Duncan to make sure the Highlander heard the next part as he had insisted on it in the first place, before turning back to Michael. "Strictly voluntary." 

"Voluntary?" Michael echoed skeptically. 

"Yep." Methos replied. "No repercussions if you say no." 

"Where?" Michael asked, wanting to know before asking his next question. 

"Center." 

"In what capacity?" Michael asked, this time hiding his surprise better. He had thought perhaps Oversight, but what position needed to be filled in Center? 

"Running it." Methos replied, enjoying the stunned look on the young immortal's face. "Under my supervision, obviously." Methos elaborated. "The better you are, the less supervision, of course." 

"Why?" Michael recovered his shock and asked. 

"You're ready for it and it's time. Past time, actually." Methos replied. "If not for your friend's interference, you would have been approached earlier." 

"When?" Michael asked curiously. 

"To make a long story short, Section playing patsy with the Director of Red Cell was the final test for many." Methos summarized. "All you need to know right now is that *you* passed. But by then, Duncan's insistent whining put a damper on my plans." 

"Alright, already. I ruined your plans. At least it wasn't your life." Duncan finally jumped in. 

"It's alright, Mac." Michael interrupted, knowing where Duncan was going. "I understand." He accepted his former teacher's unspoken apology then turned back to 'Pierce.' Coming back in wasn't an issue, as 'Pierce' had implied, most people in the know probably didn't believe he was dead anyway. By the tone of the conversation, Michael guessed that his 'personal' issues would be up to him to resolve and 'Pierce' would not interfere. But still… 

"Can I think about it?" Michael asked, testing the waters. 

"Yes." Methos replied, without hesitation, expecting as much. "How long?" He couldn't leave the position and accompanying issues open indefinitely. 

"Until the morning." Michael replied, even though he had already more or less made his decision. 

"That's not unreasonable." Methos replied. "And since this barge has turned into Grand Central Station, we'll just meet back here at nine am. Agreed?" Methos finalized, not even bothering to ask for 'permission' to use Duncan's home again. 

******** 

Michael left the barge promising to be back by the appointed time. After he left Mac and Methos briefly discussed the conversation and agreed that, all things considered, it had gone rather well. Due to the vacancies in the organization, Methos had to leave shortly thereafter and attend to Agency matters. On his way out, he couldn't resist firing a parting shot at his favorite boy scout about the folly of mixing business with friendships. 

******** 

Michael didn't need the few hours to make his decision. He *wanted* this. The only unresolved issue that mattered to him was his relationship with Nikita. But the fact that despite her orders, Nikita let him go, gave Michael hope for that situation as well. 

No, he didn't need to think about the offer. What Michael *did* need was time to uncover the truth. He believed in the sincerity of his ex (and most likely soon to be again) boss. That wasn't the issue. But, Michael had not survived the Section for as long as he did and get to where he was without gathering all available (and sometimes not so available) intel and covering all the bases. Something didn't sit right with him about 'Pierce' and before he agreed to work for the man, Michael was going to find out *exactly* who it is he'd be working for. 

******** 

Making sure he wasn't followed, Michael headed for his destination. He figured 'Pierce' and Mac would be busy for a while, but he wasn't taking any chances and took the quickest route. Picking up some confiscated Section (and non-Section) gear, Michael hurriedly headed for the other side of town. 

Quelling any pangs of guilt for violating a trust, Michael stealthily entered the premises. Reasoning that if he was being spied on, regardless of altruistic or other reasons, he had a right to 'spy' back eased his conscience. Besides, he wouldn't do anything with the information other than confirm his suspicions. 

Booting up the computer he'd glimpsed on occasional visits with Mac to Joe's bar, Michael proceeded to look for files he knew would probably not be there. Needing confirmation though, he checked the entire system. If you watched hundreds and hundreds of people over the years, information had to be kept somewhere. With the computer age in full swing journals would be obsolete. 

Applying skills and 'toys' that even the late Seymour Birkoff would have been impressed with, Michael quickly realized he had been correct and shut down the computer and proceeded to pull out a few more toys from his small black duffel bag. Pulling out a special scanner, Michael searched the premises and found half a dozen mini-discs spread throughout the office. 

Taking care to remember exactly where each disc had been hidden, Michael pulled out yet another gadget from his bag, applied a few more hacking skills, circumvented the discs' 'security' system, decrypted the discs and finally copied them onto blank discs of his own. 

Knowing he had already been there too long and the possibility of detection grew exponentially with every moment, Michael worked as quickly and efficiently as always and walked out with no-one the wiser. 

Checking into a cheap, nondescript motel, Michael booted up his laptop and began searching his copied discs one by one. Seeing the words Watchers' Chronicles appear on his screen, Michael smiled in satisfaction. 

'Pierce' was an immortal so there should have been a file on him in these chronicles. Finding a picture of 'Adam Pierson,' former watcher, on the third disc he tried, Michael proceeded to read the file. 

Adam Pierson had been a watcher assigned to researching 'Methos,' a myth to most, but supposedly the oldest living immortal. It had been Pierson's job, with the aid of Methos' own journals, to track down the 'myth.' Pierson had left his job voluntarily a short time ago amidst speculation that he had 'become' immortal himself in the course of his duties. 

Putting the pieces together, Michael realized *exactly* who 'Pierce' or 'Mr. M' was. The man who he knew as the Agency's true boss had a very strong 'presence.' He certainly had to be much older than Mac. Using the name 'Adam,' first man, was an arrogant giveaway. 'Mr. M?' Just as dead a giveaway. Michael made a mental note to one day, if and when they ever became friends or if any of the three 'conspirators' noticeably slipped up, call his boss on it. 

Knowing now who he would be working for, Michael made his final decision. Being a history buff already, his interest in history only partially connected to the fact that it was a good learning tool, Michael looked forward to that day, and the stories he was sure Methos had to tell. 

As thorough as Michael was, he went through all the discs and was surprised to discover one that looked different from the others and was devoted completely to the story of Methos. Remembering that this disc was the best hidden of them all, Michael wondered at how 'official' this particular disc was, and whether or not anyone besides Joe (and himself now) knew about it. Filing yet more intel away for the future, Michael copied an extra set of discs and 'forwarded' them to a secondary location on the way back to the barge. The original copies he put away in his primary 'hiding spot' near Paris. 

Michael had chosen the spot due to its relative proximity to Section, reasoning that if he'd have need of those 'resources,' he'd probably be close to Section when he required them. His reasoning had proven sound on several occasions, not the least of which a year ago, when he went rogue to neutralize the Gelman process used on Nikita. 

******** 

"So, have you come to a decision?" Methos asked without preamble once the three men had settled into the same seats as the previous night. 

"Yes." Michael replied. 

"And?" Duncan asked impatiently. 

"I have a couple of questions." Michael replied. 

"Of course you do." Methos expected as much. "Go ahead." 

"Who would I answer to?" Michael wanted unequivocal confirmation before continuing. 

"Me." 

"Who would make the high-level personnel decisions?" Michael asked his next question. 

"You would. Final approval up to me, at least initially." Methos answered frankly. 

"This is my personnel roster." Michael returned, pulling out a small pda and passing it over to Methos, 'testing' the other man. 

"Why I am not surprised?" Methos fairly smirked, taking the proffered pda, amused and pleased at Michael's boldness and readiness. "Confident aren't you?" 

"Yes." Michael admitted bluntly. 

"Oh, I can see this is going to be fun." Duncan grinned, unable to resist. 

"I'm glad you think so." Methos retorted, looking up from the pda. "Because you're on the list." 

"What?" Duncan asked stunned and angry. 

"It's contingent on your agreement, of course." Methos showed Duncan the pda, his name marked off as questionable pending acceptance. 

"I just thought you might want to help." Michael explained. 

"He's got a good point, you know." Methos joined in. "Instead of whining about the injustices…" 

"Put up or shut up. Is that what you're saying?" Duncan interrupted testily. 

"No." Michael interjected. "Obviously Pierce came to the same conclusions as you did about Section and the Agency in general. Otherwise why restructure?" Michael turned to Methos for confirmation. 

"Exactly." Methos added. "Whether or not Michael had agreed to come back, there was still a need for change. It may have taken me a while and I may have needed more prodding than I should have, but I *do* understand that." 

"No." Duncan stated adamantly. 

"Why?" Michael asked at the same time Methos asked "Why not?" 

"Let me count the reasons." Duncan returned sarcastically. "First of all, I don't even know enough about the organization to be the lowest level operative." 

"You're a quick learner and I'm a good teacher." Methos argued. "I'm sure Michael is, too." 

"I wouldn't tolerate slow going. I'd tick you both off very quickly demanding more than you were ready for." 

"I'm sure suitable middle ground would be found to mutually benefit both sides." Michael fielded this one. 

"I'm an outsider." Duncan persisted. 

"Perfect." Methos countered. "Both Michael and I have been in too long. Too much of what's wrong has already become habit." 

"Exactly." Michael added. "You'd see the forest from the trees." 

"And just how long did you envision this joint venture to last?" 

"As long as you were willing." Michael responded to that one, seeing that he had been the one to put the Highlander on his list in the first place. While this isn't the way the conversation was supposed to go, the tag team effort seemed to be wearing him down. 

"What exactly did you see me doing?" Duncan asked Michael, still not convinced but curiosity getting the better of him. 

Before Michael could answer the question there was a knock on the door. When Duncan went to answer it he found Joe Dawson standing on the other side with bad news. 

"Uh, Pierce." Joe greeted, the news he was bringing distracting him and almost making him slip. "Michael." 

"What's wrong?" Duncan asked impatiently, not liking his friend's hesitation. 

"When was the last time you heard from Amanda?" Joe asked, sitting down on the empty chair near Michael. 

"Six months ago. She sent me a message. I didn't reply." Duncan thought back, a sudden thought occurring. "Why? Is she…? 

"No." Joe quickly assured knowing what his friend must have been thinking. "She's alive." 

"So, what then?" 

"How well do you keep track of recruitment?" Joe turned to Methos rather than answering Duncan's question. 

"Not well." Methos replied, puzzled by the turn of the conversation. "There's too many to keep track of. Why?" 

"Amanda was involved in a museum heist a few months ago." Joe sighed. "A guard was killed, beheaded actually. Amanda was caught at the scene. She was convicted of murder but 'committed suicide' before sentencing. We thought that, as usual, she did it on her own and was now laying low." 

"Uh-oh." Methos muttered, realizing where this was headed. 

"Yeah. Uh-oh." Joe confirmed. "The watcher I had in Section One was still there. He saw Amanda yesterday." 

The reactions Joe got from his news were varied. Michael was simply curious. Even though he had a copy of Joe's chronicles in his possession he hadn't looked up Mac's 'file.' He'd only looked at what was necessary and invading his former teacher's privacy hadn't even been considered. So, all he knew about Amanda he'd gleaned from Duncan. And all the older immortal had ever really said about her was that she was an *old* girlfriend who tended to get him into all kinds of trouble every time they crossed paths. 

Methos knew much more about Amanda and, of course, her relationship with the Highlander. He was actually amused and had to restrain himself from laughing at the irony. Actually, considering her many varied 'enterprises,' he was surprised Amanda had still been running around loose (well until now, anyway). Methos' mind was already working, the wheels turning. If Amanda could be convinced to 'hang around' a bit, then perhaps that was what would finally reel Duncan in. 

Duncan of course, was alarmed to say the least. Knowing Amanda as he did, he almost didn't know who to worry about more, Amanda or Section One. Amanda, a covert operative? There was nothing covert about the 1200 year old woman. All his panicked mind could comprehend at this point was that he had to get her out of there before she caused irreparable damage. 

******** 

**SECTION ONE: THREE WEEKS AGO**

Amanda woke up to find herself restrained on a bed in a sterile white room, empty save for the bed she was on and a metal chair to the side of the bed. She recalled being led to solitary confinement for a rules infraction she didn't commit then a stinging sensation in her arm at which point she lashed out at the masked figures suddenly surrounding her in the dimly lit corridor. The last thing she remembered was being shot at several times and a voice saying, "She's still not out? There's enough tranqs in her to kill an elephant." 

Concluding that she was no longer in prison, but undoubtedly under surveillance, Amanda sighed and laid back down to await her 'fate.' Fortunately, the wait was short and several minutes later the metal door on the opposite side of the room opened and in stepped a man in his mid-thirties with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes. 

"You shouldn't be awake." He commented, walking over and carefully unlocking the wrist restraints, watching for any sudden movements from the woman on the bed. 

"Well, I am." Amanda retorted, even though she knew it had been a statement, not a question requiring a response. "Where the hell am I?" She asked, sitting up carefully. 

"Hell. Interesting use of words, fitting too, I can assure you." O'Brien returned, the new recruit rubbing him raw already. "Welcome to Section One. We are the most covert anti-terrorist organization in the world." O'Brien continued his speech, briefly flashing back to his own introduction into Section One. "The world thinks you're dead, another sad prison suicide." There was no picture of a funeral to pull out, the 'body' cremated as per that particular prison's policy. 

"Well, that's a start." Amanda muttered, referring to the fact that they did her a favor by 'getting rid' of the infamous Amanda Montrose. The identity was becoming too well known anyway. 

"This isn't a discussion, it's a speech." O'Brien returned. "Now shut up and listen." He continued after Amanda quieted. "This is where you will train, where you will learn. If at the end of two years you're still alive you will work for us." He finished. 

"Still alive?" Amanda asked, suppressing the urge to smile. 

"If you don't learn, you'll be canceled." O'Brien went on to elaborate. "Canceled, dead, terminated, get the picture?" 

"You can't be serious." Amanda complained. "Why me? And why now?" 

"You have a very long and colorful past. Highly skilled international cat burglar. *Several* law enforcement agencies were very happy to see you caught. We were just waiting for you to cross the line into murder." O'Brien answered. 

"I'll have to be less accommodating in the future." 

"Training starts tomorrow. Five AM." O'Brien ignored her comment and gave Amanda her new wake up time for the next two years on his way out, surprised at the new recruit's seeming calm. 

'I wonder how long it'll take me to convince them to cancel me?' Amanda wondered after O'Brien left. 

******** 

**SECTION ONE: THIS MORNING**

"O'Brien feels Amanda should be cancelled now rather than wasting resources." Nikita brought up the next recruit up for discussion this morning. 

"What's your opinion?" Operations asked his new second in command. 

"I disagree." Nikita answered, even though she knew her opinion would not carry much weight with her superior. 

"I'm not surprised." Operations returned. 

"Three weeks is too soon to give up." Nikita persisted, trying to win another of the seemingly endless battles she'd had with Operations ever since her designation as his second in command yesterday morning. Jones had promised this would temporary, she'd have to stay in Section just long enough to make sure things were back on course and a permanent replacement for Madeline was found. The way things were going, this was going to be a very long stay. "She has excellent skills and a good background for this, she just needs to learn discipline." 

"Like you did?" Operations retorted, inwardly reveling at Nikita's visible grimace. 

"Our situations are hardly similar." Nikita defended. 

"Of course. You were an innocent. Spare me the speech." Operations sighed, then returned to the matter at hand. "I'll speak to her." 

"What?" Nikita asked, more than a little surprised at Operations' unprecedented offer. 

"You said yourself I lacked compassion or at least the good judgment that comes with a small dose of it." Operations reminded Nikita. "Maybe now's a good a time as any to start 'growing' some." 

"Fine." Nikita said, wondering what the hell that man had up his sleeve now. 

******** 

"Good morning." Operations greeted as he walked unannounced into Amanda's room, finding her in bed reading a novel. He immediately attached a scrambler to the wall to make absolutely sure they weren't going to be seen or heard. 

"I wouldn't know." Amanda retorted. "I'll take your word for it. Come to think of it, I'll have to take your word for it that it's morning at all." 

"Are you always so…?" 

"Verbose?" Amanda supplied diplomatically. 

"Yes." 

"Actually, usually more so." Amanda shrugged. "You caught me on a bad day." 

"Thank god for that." 

"What's with the chit-chat?" Amanda asked. "I don't suppose you're here to cancel me. That's not something top management would do." 

"You know who I am?" Operations asked. 

"Of course. Operations, the BMOC." 

"Interesting term." Operations commented. "I hear that you're trying your best to get yourself cancelled." 

"So? You've got hundreds of worker ants scurrying around, what's one more or less to you? 

"But you're not an ordinary worker ant." Operations countered. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amanda asked apprehensively. 

"I've seen your file. You've developed quite an impressive resume." 

"A lot of good it'll do me in the real world, especially now that I'm supposed to be dead." 

"Speaking of which." Operations paused, moving in for the kill. "That was an usual way to kill someone, beheading." 

"Yes, well we *were* in a museum, the sword was the closest weapon around." Amanda defended, starting to worry about the direction of the conversation. 

"You know, I always believed in an eye for an eye." Operations mused. "So, since you seem to be so hell-bent on getting yourself cancelled, I suppose I can accommodate you." 

"How?" Amanda asked, already suspecting the answer. 

"An eye for an eye." Operations repeated. "Decapitation." 

******** 

"That's so ugly and messy." Amanda returned. "Why the extra cleanup? A bullet would be just as effective and a lot neater." 

"But a bullet would not do any permanent damage, would it?" Operations persisted. 

"Of course it would." Amanda tried. 

"Really?" Operations asked dubiously. "Why don't we test that theory out, then?" He continued, pulling out a gun from a shoulder holster underneath his jacket. "Now, can we stop with the games and admit the truth or do I need to shoot you?" 

"Why me?" Amanda asked, stubborn to a fault, still unwilling to admit her immortality. 

"Contrary to what you may believe, I don't approve or disapprove every potential recruit." Operations clarified the circumstances that brought Amanda into Section One. "I saw you a few days ago and you looked familiar. After I checked your file, things fell into place." 

"Where did you recognize me from?" Amanda asked suspiciously. 

"I have certain resources and contacts that most _mortals_ don't." 

"And your contact allows you access to certain 'chronicles?'" Amanda asked realizing his contact had to be a watcher, suddenly unsure as to the harmlessness of the chronicles. 

"No." Operations denied then elaborated, knowing what the immortal must have been thinking. "I *do* have a life outside the Section. Some of that 'life' entails old friendships that I wouldn't even allow Section to break." 

"I suppose some of these friends sport little, round tattoos on their left wrists." Amanda put the pieces together. 

"Yes." Operations confirmed, putting his gun away. "I'm one of very few outside the organization who knows about it and the people that they keep tabs on." Operations concluded vaguely, leaving the story of how he became involved with the watchers (and one watcher in particular) for later, after Amanda's decision had been made, one way or another. 

"I see." 

"No, you don't." Operations countered. "Your being here was purely accidental. I'm not even sure that the watchers know you're here yet. I recognized you because of your friendship with certain others of your kind, that's all." Operations stressed, imparting on Amanda that there was no conspiracy, only coincidence. 

"Alright." Amanda replied. "Assuming for a minute that I believe you, what do you want from me?" 

"Your voluntary cooperation." Operations replied. 

"Threatening me with decapitation is not your best bet for ensuring my _voluntary_ cooperation. Try something else." 

"Mutual benefits." Operations smiled in response to the challenge. 

"Mutual benefits?" Amanda echoed, curious as to what the man could possibly offer her to make her *want* to stay in this depressive and oppressive underground tomb. "You've got my attention." 

******** 

Operations had begun to see things differently recently. The 'change' had been gradual and there was still far to go, but it was there nonetheless. Contrary to what some in the organization deluded themselves into thinking, it wasn't Madeline's death or Nikita's true mission that had been the catalyst. 

As much as he now regretted his actions at the time, it wasn't Michael's death that had been responsible for Operations' turnaround either. He'd forced himself to pass it off as another loss among many. He refused to admit that this particular loss affected him any more than the countless others. It hadn't even been Michael's return three months later that effectively shattered his delusions and left Operations open for self-examination. 

Truth be told, when he sent Michael in alone and dark to rescue Nikita, in the back of Operations' mind was a nagging suspicion that the recently returned-from-the-dead level five operative would use this opportunity for escape, for both himself and Nikita. Madeline's suggestion of that possibility was merely a reinforcement of his concerns. 

Comforted by the fact that Michael had returned to the Section at all rather than use his own considerable resources (the same resources he had used so effectively in the last year or so) to rescue his former material, Operations figured Michael would come back again. 

When Michael and Nikita *did* return, Operations refused to acknowledge the little bit of surprise and relief he'd felt at their return. He'd shrugged it off as expected of an operative of that caliber and level and things returned to 'normal.' Self-examination didn't start for Operations in earnest until a few weeks later, after their joint venture with Red Cell. 

Operations had used the unexpected mission to test two key people – Madeline and Michael – for two very different reasons. The result of that test was what had started Operations down his road of self-review. 

Nagging doubts about Michael's loyalty and Madeline's self-sufficiency propelled Operations to plan the mission against Red Cell the way he did. 

Operations realized that he and Madeline were no longer the optimal pair they had once been long before Nikita and Mr. Jones' evaluations. Two decades of working together side by side was not an easy thing to let go of. But, denial was a luxury Operations and Section could no longer afford. To that end, he knew that it was time for them to part company, regardless of whether or not he would be moved to Oversight. 

However, Operations was not about to throw Madeline to the wolves until he was sure she would make it on her own, swim instead of sink. By abandoning Madeline to her own devices against Red Cell, Operations knew he was risking her life, but he had no choice. If she couldn't get out of that situation on her own, then she would never be able to swim on her own. He hoped she survived, and was relieved by the confirmation of her skills and survival instinct. Madeline would do fine on her own in Section One or anywhere else. 

As for Michael, Operations knew the level five operative would flourish no matter where he was, his competence hadn't been an issue in a long, long time. But his loyalty was another matter, never fully laid to rest despite the many tests he had already gone through. This time, the problem was Adam. 

Michael's confirmed immortality was proof of his incapability of being Adam's father and Michael surely knew that by now. The question now was did this 'revelation' shift Michael's loyalty away from Section and was Michael just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to retaliate against those who he thought were responsible for that charade and all the pain that had come with it. 

When Michael proved his loyalty again by siding with Section instead of trying to help Red Cell destroy it, Operations was pleased. Of course, he had had contingencies in place just in case Michael _had_ failed the test, but Operations was relieved it hadn't come down to that. 

After Madeline returned from that mission and things settled back into routine is when Operations' self-examination began. Ironically, it was Michael's somewhat unexpected continuing loyalty to Section and its leader that set Operations on his current path. 

Beginning with this most recent 'betrayal,' Operations thought back over everything that had been done to Michael over the years. Considering what he and Madeline had put the younger man through, he couldn't fathom why Michael was still here and he and Madeline were still alive. Operations wasn't so sure that if he were in Michael's shoes he would be so 'forgiving.' Sure he had been tested in his days, was still being tested even now, but not like this. When did he and Madeline become this ruthless and paranoid about protecting their power rather than protecting the innocent? 

Yes, it was time for a change. Operations needed a new second in command, someone as brilliant as Madeline, but not as ruthless. Too many years and it had become habit for him, Operations needed someone to temper his own now almost ingrained ruthlessness because he wasn't sure anymore if his means justified the end. Of course, by the time Operations finally came to his decision and resolved to implement a change it was too late. Center's scenario and endgame came to light, destroying any chance he had to change Section on his own terms. 

Center had dictated that Operations remain in Section One for the next seven years and 'gave' him a new second in command/chief tactician/psychologist and chief field operative/team leader, neither one of which inspired his confidence or trust. However, Operations vowed that he'd cultivate loyal operatives again, show that he still 'had it' and make it to Oversight in a hell of a lot less time than was allotted. 

One thing Operations had seen in the short time that Center's new personnel configuration had been in effect was that without two of its key players, Section was on a downward spiral. Operations smiled bitterly to himself, remembering his conversation with Jones an hour ago. Section's latest mission had been profiled by Nikita (who also ran tactical oversight) and led by O'Brien with Quinn running sims beforehand and overseeing comm. 

Sure, closure had been achieved. But, losses should have been lower, would have been if… No one could change the profile or tactical so seamlessly in mid-mission the way Michael could, not even Madeline. 

Jones had told him to be patient, an adjustment period had to be expected. In the meantime, resources were already depleted, how much longer before sustaining critical mass of personnel became an issue. Perhaps the new players would adjust, but they would never measure up to the old ones. 

So, Operations decided to get some pinch hitters of his own and make sure they became everyday players. 

******** 

"Mutual benefits?" Amanda echoed, curious as to what the man could possibly offer her to make her *want* to stay in this depressive and oppressive underground tomb. "You've got my attention." 

"*My* benefits are obvious." Operations began. "You're new. While you may have heard rumors and stories, you haven't been here long enough to form a fixed opinion one way or another." 

"So your and your second in command's lack of popularity doesn't surprise you?" 

"No." Operations smiled. "And, yes, most of what you've heard is probably true." 

"Really? Interesting." Amanda commented dryly. " But, when do we get to the part that's supposed to make me interested in sticking around?" 

"If you'd let me continue…" 

"Sorry." Amanda quipped, not sounding sorry at all. "Long standing habit." 

"As I was saying." Operations continued patiently, something that was still very alien to him and required considerable willpower. "Your lack of allegiance to anyone leaves me with a fair chance of convincing you, through actions as well as words, that your loyalties should lie with me and that I really do want Section back to the way it should be." Operations paused, getting to the heart of the matter, vagueness no longer a viable option. "The reason I chose to deal with *you* is that even though I'm not a watcher, I *have* heard a lot about you." 

"What exactly have you heard?" Amanda's curiosity got the better of her. 

"You're successful at what you do, have access to significant technology." Operations opened diplomatically, then smiled, slightly but genuinely. "Could teach most of the operatives a thing or two about breaking and entering without leaving 'fingerprints.' You also improvise quite well and can talk almost anyone into almost anything. You would need 'far' less than two years to complete training." 

"But?" Amanda knew there was one coming. 

"You'd need to work on the 'nuances' of Section Life and how to be part of a team." 

"So you've sized me up already." Amanda returned, getting to what was *really* important to her. "But, you still haven't explained what's in it for me." 

"Atonement." Operation stated simply. 

"For what?" Amanda asked, shocked. " I have *nothing* to atone for. At least nothing that's mortal business." She amended. 

"I'm not saying you *owe* me or the world at large, I just thought events in your life, especially in the last few years would have given you a guilty conscience. Section One, as I see it in the future, would be a good place to balance a guilty conscience." 

"My conscience is clear." Amanda stated firmly. 

"Really?" Operations asked, then began his attack. "Killing a museum security guard was what got you into Section in the first place." 

"He challenged me." Amanda interrupted indignantly. "What was I supposed to do? Let him take my head?" 

"Immortal or not, he was just doing his job." 

"A night watchman in a museum! Who would have thought an immortal would hold that kind of job?" Amanda persisted, trying to keep the guilt at bay. 

"Whatever the reason, it doesn't alter the facts." Operations continued. "Plus, looking at just the Interpol file on you, in the last year you've gotten a good cop, who ironically stepped in front of a bullet to save _your_ life, killed. Got another good cop kicked off the force…" 

"Nick was not kicked off." Amanda interjected lamely. 

"Sorry." Operations returned, not sounding sorry at all. "He resigned because of the cover-up *your* actions necessitated." 

"Nick was fine with being a private detective, he didn't need the badge." Amanda defended. 

"Maybe if you keep telling yourself that long enough, you'll start to believe it." Operations countered. "Besides, that was just the beginning. You involved him in your immortal 'games' and set Interpol on his trail, too." 

"I was only trying to protect him." Amanda countered tightly, remembering how badly things had ended and how her Scottish best friend/sometime lover was nowhere to be found at the time to help her through it. 

"Exactly." Operations triumphed. "Think of all the people you can protect via Section. Make up for some of those lives you've ruined over the years, intentionally or inadvertently." 

"That's not fair." Amanda retorted. "That's hitting below the belt." 

"Not really. I could only score a hit if you'd already had misgivings about your actions in the first place." Operations countered. "If you don't like it, we could always have you killed on a mission and you can go on right where you left off." 

******** 

**SECTION ONE: PRESENT**

After their conversation, Operations had given Amanda the day 'off' to contemplate her options. He didn't exactly give Amanda a deadline, but Operations asked if she could have an answer for him by day's end. 

By eight o'clock that evening Amanda had come to a decision. She asked to speak to Operations, and fifteen minutes later she was summoned to the Perch. They were just about finished discussing the matter (in private and surveillance free, of course) when Operations and Nikita were called away to Center. 

Amanda went over the details of their agreement over a short solo workout in the gym, oblivious to the admiring glances cast her way. Satisfied with her decision, Amanda returned to her room and waited to see if Operations was true to his word. Five minutes later an armed, black clad operative walked in and asked Amanda to follow him. 

Amanda was escorted through parts of Section she hadn't been allowed in yet and was 'shown around' all the new areas she now had access to. After twenty minutes of touring they arrived in front of a metal door. 

"Your belongings will arrive shortly." Amanda's escort informed her then gestured for her to go inside. 

"That's okay." Amanda returned as she preceded her escort into her new quarters, making a mental note to raid wardrobe as soon as possible. "You can burn them." 

Amanda spent the next several minutes with her escort who showed her how to plug in a private access code to her new quarters. He also picked up a small object from on top of the dresser that turned out to be a scrambling device for privacy when she wanted it. If the operative thought it just a *bit* unusual for a new recruit to get this kind of 'freedom' after only three weeks of lackluster performance, he didn't say so. But the rumor mills were bound to buzz by tomorrow. 

After her escort left, Amanda took a cursory look around, noting where the camera was, satisfied that, as promised, there was only one camera and even then surveillance would be random only. So far, Operations had kept his word. Tomorrow, she would start to reciprocate, but tonight she had some 'shopping' to do. 

Studying the pda on her bed, Amanda found and memorized the quickest route and the access codes needed along that route to her destinations. Before she left she keyed in a private access code that only level five and higher operatives could override with a 'master' code. 

Smiling to herself at the incongruity of her volunteering to remain in Section, Amanda headed out. On the way to wardrobe, her first destination, Amanda wondered how long it would take for the watchers to find her this time. The smile died a moment later though, as she thought about the fact that Mac wouldn't be able to find her either. 'Then again, if he didn't care, then why the hell should I?' Amanda asked herself and put it out of her mind. 

******** 

An hour and a half later Amanda returned to her room trailed by a doting level one operative who carried her wardrobe and other various new personal effects. Smiling at the operative, Amanda thanked him and sent him on his way with the promise of a lunch date sometime in the near future. 

Not long after she finished unpacking there was a knock on her door. Thinking it was her admirer, Amanda opened the door prepared to tell him firmly, but politely, to go away. The smile died on her lips as she saw the two armed tall, bulky and somber operatives on the other side. 

The older of the two ordered Amanda to follow them. The two operatives then turned around and began walking, not even bothering to make sure she was following. Incensed at this treatment which she was just assured would cease, Amanda picked up her new duster coat and followed behind angrily, muttering about the treatment she was getting. 

Surprised that the journey was taking them out of Section, Amanda held her tongue until they arrived at their destination. She didn't have long to wait, the ride in the Suburban was short, less than five minutes. Coming to a stop in front of a restaurant that looked closed for the evening, the younger of her two escorts told her to go inside and they would wait for her out here. 

Entering the dimly lit restaurant, Amanda was thankful she brought her coat and put her hand on the hilt of the sword hidden inside as soon as she felt the presence of two immortals, one very old and one much younger. 

Adjusting to the lighting, Amanda spotted her hosts, three in all and walked over to the one leaning back against the bar, an exasperated expression on his face. She stood mute for a moment then punched him solidly on the chin. 

"What was that for?" Asked Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod incredulously. 

"As if you don't know." Amanda spat, angry. He shows up now? Just when she finally got a new direction? Come to think of it, how *did* he pull off this visit? 

"Oh, boy." Methos commented from the barstool. "Maybe Joe and I should leave you two alone." 

"Not if you want pretty boy to keep his head." 

"Amanda." Duncan tried to smooth things over, glad he was a quick healer. The woman had a pretty good right hook. "Would you let me explain?" 

"Explain what?" Amanda fairly shouted, forgetting in her anger about the question of how he found her and got her a 'weekend pass.' "You disappear. No word to *any* one. God forbid you at least let us know you're alive." 

"Amanda." Duncan tried again, getting annoyed himself. "You know what happened, I *had* to leave." 

"In all fairness, Amanda," Methos tried to intervene and defend the Highlander. He wanted them *both* in Section so he needed them partially reconciled at the very least. "Duncan did have some issues to resolve." 

"He had to brood? Of course, Duncan is the only one with 'issues.' I grieved for Richie too." Amanda showed no signs of calming down. "Oh, but you wouldn't know that, would you? You took off." 

"Alright, so you got caught in a heist." Duncan interrupted her tirade, exasperated as well. "Like it's never happened before. You needed me to bail you out as usual. Sorry I wasn't around." 

"Bail me out?" Amanda asked incredulously. "Is that what you think this is about?" 

"Isn't it?" Duncan asked, thinking that he knew Amanda well. 

"You didn't tell them?" Amanda turned to Joe. 

"It's been a little hectic." Joe defended. He came along because the walls were closing in, so to speak. Two worlds which he never imagined would be entangled were now irreversibly so. He'd have to tell them about his own connection to Section One soon. As it was, both Methos and Mac believed he had watchers in place there, but it wouldn't be long before they found out the whole truth. Joe wanted them to hear it from him first. Then he could worry about informing all the other parties involved. 

"Tell us what?" Mac and Methos asked Joe for an answer almost simultaneously. 

"About 'issues' that weren't yours." Amanda answered instead. 

"Like what?" Mac turned back to Amanda. 

"First of all, you weren't the only one who loved Richie. I don't care if either of these two read you the riot act about your desertion, already. It's my turn." Amanda didn't even pause for breath, wanting to get this off her chest without any interruptions from Duncan. "I can't believe you just took off like that. I loved him too, you know. Joe told me what happened. I should have heard about it from you." 

"Are you finished yet?" Duncan asked, hoping she had gotten everything out of her system. Amanda was rubbing a newly healed wound raw. 

"Not by a long shot." Amanda replied. 

"What else?" Duncan asked tightly, unaware of Amanda's recent exploits. 

"Do you know why I went back to doing museum heists?" 

"You needed more money?" Duncan inquired sarcastically. 

"No, you ignorant Scot." Amanda raged. "I finally found someone I could spend a lifetime with." 

"That made you want to steal?" A confused Mac asked. 

"No." Amanda sighed quietly, her indignation deflated with the memory. "I lost him." 

"He died?" Mac asked quietly, his own anger deflated at the anguish in Amanda's eyes. 

"I killed him and he couldn't forgive me." 

"What?" 

"I ruined his career in law enforcement, got his partner killed, too. Nick was one of us, he just didn't know it yet. I thought I would stay and try to…help…so I got involved in his life. Instead of helping I got him more involved in *our* world than he should have been." Amanda paused momentarily, the memories too painful. 

Seeing the pain etched in his long time friend's face, Duncan walked over and took Amanda in his arms, trying belatedly to bring what comfort he could. He also tried to ignore the painful memories of his own past and Richie's similar induction into the immortal world. However, Duncan was about as successful at keeping the memories at bay as Amanda, and took as much comfort from her as she did from him. 

"Thank you." Amanda stopped crying and leaned back in Duncan's embrace after a few minutes. "But I *need* to tell you." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes." Amanda replied then turned to Methos and Joe who were standing around uncomfortably, ready to step outside and give the two some privacy. "It's okay Joe, you know the story already." 

"You want me to go?" Methos asked, silent up until then. 

"No, it's alright. But come to think of it, why are *you* here anyway?" 

******** 

While Methos was trying to come up with a suitable answer for Amanda, Jones was having problems of his own at Center. 

Two hours ago, *the* boss of the Agency who was known only as Methos had waltzed in unannounced, as usual. Jones got called in to Helmut Volker's old office by his superior. Jones had known that Methos was looking for a replacement for Volker, who had been sent to head Oversight because he wasn't cut out for running the Center. So Jones hadn't been surprised that Methos wasn't alone. What had shocked Jones beyond suppression was seeing who Methos had brought with him. 

It wasn't that he was surprised that Michael Samuelle was alive, he knew that already. But that he was here, at Center, with the boss himself, was enough to make Jones' head spin. As if that wasn't enough of a shocker, Methos only stayed long enough to inform Jones that not only was Michael back in the organization, but he was Volker's replacement as well. Methos had another pressing matter to attend to, so it was Jones' responsibility to bring Michael up to speed and follow any and all directions the man would give him. 

It had taken all of fifteen minutes to bring Michael up to speed. The next forty minutes entailed orders from Michael on what to do with current pressing 'hot spots' and going over a list of changes he wanted implemented right away. 

The question was where did Michael's impressive knowledge of the organization come from? The man had been 'dead' for less than 48 hours. There was no way that everything Michael knew had come from a briefing in that short amount of time. So, did the knowledge come from his days at Section or had the plan to bring Michael into Center been set up from the beginning? And if so, why the charade with Volker? Not appreciating being kept out of the loop, Jones waited patiently for this briefing to come to an end before he asked his own questions. 

Before the briefing came to a close however, the intercom buzzed and they were informed that Operations and Nikita had arrived. Surprised at the visit as he did not do the inviting, Jones turned to Michael suspiciously. 

As anticipated, Michael had been expecting the visitors and told Jones that he would take care of this personally. Of course, he politely kicked Jones out first, 'asking' him to show the guests in on his way out without discussing who they would be encountering. Furthermore, Michael would contact Jones when the meeting was over. 

As much as Jones would have loved to be a fly on the wall at this meeting, he knew better than to disobey a superior so he did as bid then went to get himself a drink, or two. 

"No, it's alright. But come to think of it, why *are* you here anyway?" 

"Later. It's not important right now." Duncan intervened. "So, what happened?" 

"An old enemy came after me and Nick got in his way, so he poisoned him. A slow poison that wouldn't result in a violent death." Amanda elaborated. "He tried to convince me to spare his head in exchange for the antidote." 

"But?" Duncan prodded when Amanda quieted. 

"But there wasn't one and we all knew it." Amanda finished. "So I took his head, then shot Nick." 

"And Nick didn't appreciate what you did." Duncan surmised. 

"Hardly." Amanda remembered the letter Nick had left her before he took off, the words easily recalled as they were branded it into her mind for eternity. _"Once, everything was clear. Good guys, bad guys. Life and death. Then you meet someone, someone you want to love, then it all changes. Death brings life, life brings death. What room is there for love, when there can be only one?"_

"I'm sorry." Duncan didn't know what else to say. "I didn't know." 

"I know." Amanda sighed. "That's the problem." 

"So you went back to your roots?" Duncan tried for levity while simultaneously steering the conversation back to the present. 

"Yes." Amanda replied. "That's how I ended up in Section One." 

"Well at least *that's* something I can fix.. You're not going back." 

"Why not?" Amanda asked. "It was just getting interesting." 

"You don't want out?" Duncan asked incredulously. Knowing what he knew about the organization, he couldn't believe Amanda, of all people, would *want* to stay there. She *must* have been speaking facetiously. 

"No." Amanda returned, to Duncan's horror and Methos' delight. "I want to stay." 

"In Section?" Duncan asked, stunned beyond measure. 

"Yes." Amanda returned impatiently, not understanding Duncan's problem, unaware of his 'experience' with the organization. "As a matter of fact, your incredulity brings me back to an earlier question. How the hell did you find me? I didn't see my watcher around." 

"Actually." Joe spoke up. "Someone else's watcher saw you there yesterday." 

"Another watcher?" Amanda asked puzzled. "There's another immortal? You'd think I would have seen them by now." 

"The other immortals just got out of Section, but I hadn't gotten the watcher out yet." 

"Who were the other immortals?" Amanda asked curiously. 

"Michael Samuelle and Chris Davenport." Methos answered, readying for his part in this production. 

"Michael Samuelle? That guy? So he's not dead? Quite a few people would be happy about that." Amanda mused aloud then turned to Duncan. "Wait a minute, your last student, his name is Michael. Same person?" 

"Yes." Duncan confirmed. "Which is why I can't believe you want to stay. From the little that Michael told me about just his experiences there..." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard all the stories, the guy was a legend in that place." Amanda interrupted. "Hmm, I wonder if he knew?" 

"Who knew what?" Duncan asked confused. 

"Operations." Amanda replied. "He knew me, actually, including the fact that I was an immortal. So, now I'm wondering if he knew about Michael, too." 

"He did." Joe confirmed and three heads turned to him in shock. 

******** 

Back at Center two very shocked people were greeted by Mick's new boss. They'd already known that Mick was not the highest power in the Agency, so neither was shocked that he wasn't the 'real' Mr. Jones. They weren't shocked to see Michael alive either, albeit for different reasons. Nikita saved Michael from the abeyance mission, so she obviously knew. But Operations knowing that Michael was alive was thanks to a very different reason. 

Operations didn't know that Nikita had run interference on the abeyance mission. He had suspected she might, but either way he knew Michael would be 'fine' because he knew the other man was immortal. In fact Operations had figured that Michael asked for an abeyance mission in the first place to let everyone believe he was dead and move on to another life. 

Ironically, it was just before Center decided to play out their own endgame beginning with Nikita's Red Cell aided 'escape' that Operations had decided that changes were needed. Several events, including his 'failures' with Black Storm and the mission against Red Cell's director, brought home just how far from its original path Section One had strayed. Power struggles were almost as much in the forefront as outside missions. 

*When* exactly it was that he lost his way and became obsessed with keeping his job rather than doing it, Operations didn't even know. But he *had* finally realized what his obsession had cost and honestly wanted to make amends. He thought that the Oversight offer had been genuine and the position would be his sooner rather than later. Vowing not to fall into the same rut in Oversight as he had in Section, Operations had prepared for the promotion. He'd tagged Michael for the Perch, knowing the younger man would change Section for the better and learn from the mistakes his predecessor had made. It was just as he was finalizing the details of his 'reform' that the crap hit the fan. Nikita, under orders, escaped and came back in just long enough to convince Michael to go with her. 

When they finally found the pair, Operations thought that perhaps things could still be salvaged. Operating under the assumption that the organization would approve the reconditioning of one of the two escapees, but not both, Operations made the only choice he could. 

Operations knew Michael understood the protocol and would try to save Nikita by offering himself up for cancellation. As much as he wanted to let Michael go, knowing cancellation would not mean his death, but rather his freedom (and most likely Nikita's soon after), Operations couldn't afford to do it. He needed Michael in Section. Even the short time the younger man had been out had shown not so much others' inadequacies, but rather Michael's superiority. 

Operations, contrary to what most believed, was somewhat sorry about Nikita, even if it were just for the fact that it would cause more pain and damage even further his relationship with his protégé. But, as he told Madeline, it was Michael he needed more than Nikita. He went along with Madeline's suggestion of 'plausible deniability' but, in reality, no matter what the pair had decided, it was Nikita who was going to be sacrificed. 

Of course, in the end, Mick had made it clear that it was Michael who would be cancelled due to the, how did he put it? Oh yes, 'constant, flagrant and unforgivable breaches of protocol, extenuating circumstances not an excuse.' 

So, now the question was what was Michael doing in Center? Why would Mick convince Operations of the need for Michael's cancellation only to 'introduce' him as the new boss a couple of days later? Not to mention that Mick looked as disconcerted by this turn of events when he ushered them into the office as he and Nikita did upon seeing who it was they were being ushered in to see. 

Sorry now that he hadn't had a chance to speak to Dawson since this whole production started and possibly get a heads up on this turn of events, Operations preceded Nikita into the office and sat down, waiting for the new boss to speak. 'This should be interesting' was his final thought before Michael spoke. 

******** 

Unbeknownst to Operations, even if he *had* tried to contact Joe Dawson for information, he wouldn't have reached him. The watcher was having problems of his own, namely a guilty conscience for putting friendships ahead of sworn duty and the ensuing mess it had created. 

"Operations." Amanda replied. "He knew me actually, including the fact that I was an immortal. So, now I'm wondering if he knew about Michael, too." 

"He did." Joe confirmed and three heads turned to him in shock. 

"Revelations part 2?" Amanda asked, thinking this was going to be a long night. 

"Funny." Joe grimaced then turned to Duncan. "How did you think I got all that information about Michael?" 

"Through him." Duncan answered, looking over at Methos. 

"No, I figured the less involved the better." Joe answered. "Besides, you had originally asked about Section One only, so I asked Paul." 

"Paul? The guy that comes in to the bar every once in a while?" Duncan asked. 

"Yes." Joe confirmed. "Methos doesn't show up there much, so *he* never saw him, otherwise he'd recognize Paul right away." 

"Recognize who? What does your old Nam buddy have to do with this?" Duncan asked, confused, while Methos, enjoying the scene in front of him, quietly put the pieces together. 

"Paul?" Amanda interrupted, a sudden thought occurring to her. "That's Operations' name." 

"One and the same." Joe confirmed. 

"I don't believe this." Duncan exclaimed, angry again while Methos just smirked and Amanda remained thoughtful. 

"Hold on a minute." Joe interjected before Duncan could get himself worked up. 

"Hold on? You've got to be kidding." Duncan returned. "After everything I told you about the place and what goes on there…" 

"You've only heard one side of the story." Joe countered. "There's another side too." 

"Maybe." Duncan replied, still agitated, but even more angry at something else. "What I really can't believe is that you've never said anything before. How could you hold this back?" 

"Look, Mac, how do you think I feel?" Joe asked. "You were both my friends, on opposite sides of the same issue. What the hell was I supposed to do? You asked me about Section One, so I told you." 

"That doesn't…" Duncan began. 

"Stop right there. You don't know the whole story." Joe interrupted. "Unless and until you do…" 

"You know, boys." Amanda spoke up. "I have to side with Joe on this one." 

"What?" Duncan couldn't believe his ears again. 

"Well, I may not know what you've heard but I like the man. It seems to me he's trying to make his way back from an abyss of his own creation. I can relate." 

"Amanda's right." Joe added. "Paul's a different man than he was six months ago." 

******** 

Author's note: In case anyone has forgotten, Horton was a renegade watcher who, along with his followers, started chopping immortals' heads off because they believed all immortals were evil. 

**The following flashback is set during PRINCES OF THE UNIVERSE:**

"Paul?" Joe asked his old friend as he opened the door to the bar. "What's wrong? You look like hell." Joe commented, recalling that Paul sounded as bad as he looked now when he called an hour ago asking to come over. 

"That's about right for how I feel." Paul Wolfe, aka Operations, sat down at the bar. "Thanks for being willing to listen." 

"What are old buds for?" Joe shrugged it off, going behind the bar to pour them their favorite drinks. "So, what's going on? You haven't been by in a long time." Joe and Paul had kept in touch over the years, but the friendship had waned recently due to Joe's growing wariness of what he perceived as Paul's declining character. But, they *were* old friends and Joe couldn't just abandon him, not when he had sounded so wounded. 

"I know." Paul sighed. "But then again, I hadn't exactly been welcome lately." 

"Well, that's your own doing." Joe retorted. "I told you before you were heading down the same path as Horton." Joe reminded the other man, refraining from adding that from what he'd recently heard from Mac(as related to him by new student Michael), Paul *had* gone down that path to the 'dark side.' 

"Yes, well congratulations. You were right." Paul said sadly. 

"I'm sorry." Joe returned sincerely, not wanting to have been right on this one. Paul had been a good man for a long time, but then again so had Horton. 

"Me, too." 

"So, what happened to bring about this epiphany?" Joe asked, pouring them each another glass. 

"How do you do it?" Paul asked in return. 

"Do what?" 

"Stay objective. Not exert your will or what you think is right?" 

"Who says I do?" Joe asked in reply, feeling guilty now about divulging information about Operations' covert agency to his immortal friend, the man he was supposed to only be observing. "Hell, you've met the immortal I'm supposed to be watching, you *know* I've hardly stayed objective." 

"I suppose that's true." 

"So, what are you *really* asking?" 

"How do you avoid getting a God complex?" Operations asked. 

"I have plenty of people to ground me. Besides, it's one thing to want to help and another to want to rule." Joe answered. "What the hell happened over there to bring this on?" 

"I lost an operative today." Operations finally got to the heart of the matter. 

"It's not like that hasn't happened before. And often." 

"I know." Operations conceded. "But this feels different. The operative wasn't acceptable collateral." 

"That's not news either." Joe prodded. 

"A good operative died because I chose to play God again." 

"I don't understand." Joe admitted. 

"I wanted my best operative in top form so I made the decision to eliminate his weakness." 

"Which was?" 

"Another operative." Operations replied. "I sent her to her death, but Michael saved her and lost his own life in the process." 

"Michael?" Joe asked, hoping this was just a coincidence and they weren't talking about his immortal friend's new student. "That was your top operative?" 

"Yes." Operations sighed. "Michael Samuelle. Why?" 

"Nothing." Joe lied, his thoughts chaotic, loyalties divided. Operations' dead operative was Mac's new student. "Just thought I remembered you mentioning the name before." 

"Probably." Operations didn't notice Joe's hesitation, too preoccupied with his own thoughts. 

"So, now you're sorry and it's too late." Joe commented unkindly, remembering what Mac had told him about his new student. 

"Yes." Operations grimaced. "It's ironic, really." 

"What is?" 

"I finally realized what it is I *really* wanted from Michael and why I pushed so hard but, like you said, it's too late." 

"What was it you wanted?" Joe asked curiously. 

"A younger me." Operations paused. 

"But?" 

"But *I* don't even like me anymore." 

"It's a start." Joe returned, unwilling to betray Duncan's confidence by telling Paul the true fate of his operative. 

"What?" Operations asked, confused. 

"You can't bring back the dead." Joe answered, inwardly grimacing at the blatant lie. "But, you know where you went wrong, so fix it. You're still in charge, make sure it doesn't happen again." 

"It's not that easy." Operations argued. 

"Nothing worthwhile usually is." 

"Twenty years is a long time. Habits, both good and bad, become unbreakable." 

"You quit smoking, didn't you?" Joe countered. 

"Not completely." 

"Maybe not, but you're still trying, aren't you?" 

"Yes." Operations admitted. 

"And you're going to continue to fight it?" 

"Yes." 

"Power is an addiction, too." 

******** 

Of course, addictions of any kind are hard to break and Paul stumbled backwards a few times, but he did *try* to make some real changes. Some were for the better, some weren't. He was also hindered by the fact that without his best field operative Section's numbers dropped. Paul (and Madeline) had to direct much of their energy towards improving and maintaining higher numbers if they were to convince their superior that their leadership could survive such a loss. 

Joe had tried to help any way he could which, for several weeks entailed mostly shrink work, something Joe was used to thanks to his rather dynamic circle of friends. Two and a half months after their original conversation Paul called him to ask a question Joe had known would eventually come, but had been dreading just the same. 

Michael had returned to Section, a fact Joe had already been aware of thanks to Mac who had come to him for help. Mac had told him that Michael was going back to Section and Mac was worried about him. He wanted Joe to have whoever his Section One contact was keep an eye on Michael and let Mac know if he was in any kind of trouble. 

When he called, Paul had actually known the answer himself already and was just looking for confirmation of Michael's immortality. In order to not dig himself into a deeper hole than he was already standing in, all Joe told Paul at the time was that, yes, Michael was an immortal, but the rest was off limits. Thankfully, Operations had, at the time, let it go with that, having other immediate concerns because of this unexpected but pleasant return. However, Joe knew that he hadn't heard the last of it from Paul, not by a long shot. Joe was sure that it was just a matter of time before Paul came looking for more answers. 

Of course, by then Joe had realized that his two worlds were going to collide and sooner rather than later. He figured that the only reason they hadn't collided any sooner was because of the tragic events that followed shortly after Michael completed his training with Mac. 

Unfortunately for Paul and everyone else, Methos, who knew nothing of Paul's changing attitude (or Michael's change of heart about Section for that matter) had made his decision and now they were all dealing with the consequences which included Joe's finally coming clean. 

******** 

"Amanda's right." Joe added. "Paul's a different man than he was six months ago." 

"Is he, really?" Duncan asked, finding it hard to reconcile what he'd heard to what Joe and Amanda were telling him now. 

"Actually." Methos finally spoke up. "I have to agree." 

"You? How would you know? Joe said you've never even met the man." Amanda asked, puzzled. 

"Well, that *is* true." Methos agreed then added. "But I *have* observed the man and there are significant changes, especially considering the recent upheaval." 

"What do you mean?" Duncan asked. 

"Well, you would think that with all that had happened in the past couple of months he'd dig in and try to consolidate his resources and contacts to ensure his continued command. But he hasn't done that. He's actually worked within acceptable parameters. No blackmail, threats or the like to keep his job." Methos explained. "In the not too distant past, that would have been the first thing he'd try." 

"How do you know this?" Amanda asked. "No, wait. Let me guess. It wasn't Operations that got me out tonight, was it?" 

"Nope." Methos smirked. 

"Alright. So, how high up the corporate ladder are you?" Amanda asked. 

"All the way up." 

"Wonderful." Amanda muttered. "Please tell me you're a hands off manager." 

"Actually, think of me more as an owner. And in fact, I just hired a new manager." 

"So, Operations stays?" Amanda asked, still not sure about that one. 

"It wasn't my call. I just approved the decision." 

"Who made the decision?" 

"My new manager – Michael." 

******** 

Operations preceded Nikita into the office and sat down, waiting for the new boss to speak. 'This should be interesting' was his final thought before Michael spoke. 

"Sit down, please." Michael told Nikita, politely but firmly, his Section mask in place. 

"What is this?" Nikita asked, still standing, too shocked to stay silent. 

"The new regime." Michael answered, voice brooking no argument. "If you'd like to be a part of it, you will sit down and listen carefully." 

"How long?" Nikita asked, ignoring orders, a usual occurrence in her past dealings with Michael. All three in the room knew she was referring to Michael's administration. 

"Doesn't matter." Michael replied, mask still firmly in place, after all they weren't alone. "Focus on the next six weeks." 

"Why?" Nikita asked, predictably, while Operations remained silent. 

"They will determine your next position in the organization. Both of yours." 

"Both?" Operations asked, quite honestly surprised, but then again these six weeks could just be Michael's way of providing Operations with enough rope to hang himself. He really needed to talk to Joe, and soon, to get an idea of which scenario was more likely. 

"Yes." Michael confirmed but did not elaborate on his reasoning. "You *both* have six weeks to increase Section's efficiency. Work together or you'll both be reassigned." 

"Personnel is not optimal." Operations was curious how he'd answer that one. 

"You'll have what you need within seventy two hours." Michael returned, effectively dismissing them, already knowing who he would be bringing in and from where, hoping those who had a choice would opt to take his offer. This meeting was *supposed* to have been short, merely an introduction to the new command, an awareness that the 'old ways' would not be tolerated and time was of the essence. 

"Is that all?" Operations picked up on Michael's tone. 

"For the next six weeks, yes." Michael confirmed. 

"Until then." Operations returned, knowing when to retreat and watching with interest what his newly confirmed second in command's, silent for too long, reaction would be. 

"That's it?" A disbelieving Nikita asked, not following Operations example of standing up and walking out calmly and quietly, preventing the man across the desk from reading you even more than he already had. 

"What else is there?" Michael asked patiently. 

"What else?" Nikita echoed loudly, oblivious to the lack of privacy. 

"Focus on the future, Nikita." Michael tried again, hoping to impress upon her 'not now.' If they were to have any kind of personal relationship their professional obligations had to come first. They had to prove that the personal component of their relationship would not negatively impact on them professionally. "The past doesn't matter." 

"I'll wait outside." Operations interrupted, realizing by the look on Nikita's face that she wasn't finished yet and did not care who was around to hear her tirade. 

"Thank you." A surprised Michael returned gratefully. He'd hoped to avoid this, hoped Nikita would know better than to bring this up now, but not really surprised that she did. Patience was never a strong suite and it still wasn't. 

Operations had seen and heard enough, he didn't need or want to witness the rest. He still had, or perhaps was relearning, common decency and other too-long buried traits, so Operations shut the door behind him on the way out thereby guaranteeing the privacy this conversation deserved. 

******** 

"The past doesn't matter?" Nikita asked more calmly than she felt. But she'd be damned if she'd let Michael see the effect of his words. 

"For the next six weeks, no." Michael replied. 

"Why?" 

"Do you want out?" Michael suddenly asked, realizing sadly that perhaps he should just let go now and would abide by whatever Nikita wanted. 

"Out? Out of what?" Nikita asked, confused by the abrupt shift of the conversation. 

"Out of Section. Out of the organization. Free." Michael unconsciously held his breath, waiting for answer. Methos promised in exchange for taking the job and forgiving and forgetting about how he'd gotten there, he'd be allowed this concession. *If* Nikita chose to use it. 

"Free?" Nikita asked, stunned. 

"Yes." Michael confirmed. "No one would find you." 

"Why?" 

"You shouldn't have been here in the first place." Michael evaded. 

"Maybe not, but I *am* here." Nikita countered. "You really have the power to do this?" 

"Power no, authority yes." Michael explained. 

"It's been approved?" Nikita asked, understanding the distinction. 

"Yes." Michael replied, voice unwavering. He would *not* be the reason for her staying. "All you have to do is say yes." 

"That simple? Even after everything I've done, you're willing to give me my freedom?" 

"Yes." Michael reiterated, mask still firmly in place, refusing to be goaded. He would let her go to lead the life she was meant, even if it meant he'd never be whole again. 

"Fine." Nikita made her decision. "I want it, I want to be free." 

Michael had prepared for Nikita's affirmative answer. He had wished that Nikita would have at least stayed for the six weeks he had given Section to 'shape up.' Nikita had long wanted change in Section. Michael had hoped that in those six weeks Nikita would see how much good she could do and perhaps want to stay and continue that good. 

Seeing Nikita today and her reaction to the recent chain of events, Michael had sadly realized that there was no point in waiting the six weeks. Why would she want to stay? In Section or with him? Neither had given Nikita anything but pain and one betrayal after another. Even his new position, though not by Michael's design, undoubtedly looked like another in the long line of lies and betrayal. 

Michael was never one to defend himself and he certainly would not start now. Nikita had made her decision and he wouldn't try to change her mind. She had to stay of her own free will, otherwise, even if he was able to convince her to stay, whether through 'responsibility' or seduction, they'd only end up resenting each other in the end. 

Furthermore, even if she stayed and remained in a position of command, lies, half-truths and betrayals from above could never be completely eradicated, not if the Agency was to continue to do its job effectively. If Nikita was to achieve true freedom from the organization, then she had to sever her ties completely, Michael included. 

Somewhat comforted by the fact that he could at least give the woman he loved the one thing she wanted more than anything, Michael resigned himself to his fate. He opened one of his desk's drawers, pulled out an envelope and a set of keys, pressed a button underneath his desk then watched as the wall behind him slid open revealing a hidden tunnel. He used the distraction of the sliding wall to try to put his blank mask firmly in place, then turned back around. 

"Take these and go." Michael, mask beginning to crumble despite his efforts, directed Nikita and handed her the envelope and keys. "There's an address inside the envelope. Everything you need will be there." 

Stunned at the rapidity with which things were moving, Nikita numbly took the proffered items from Michael's hand and with one final look back at him, stepped into the tunnel.


End file.
